


Pulse

by isnt_it_pretty



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aang is presious, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Child Abuse, Depression, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insomnia, Iroh is so good, Iroh misses his son but loves Zuko more than life itself, Ozai is a shit father, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Suicide Attempt, Zuko needs help, everybody wants Zuko to be okay, iroh is also supportive, the gang is supportive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2018-08-19 06:09:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8193182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isnt_it_pretty/pseuds/isnt_it_pretty
Summary: Everybody is faced with decisions that can change their life. For Zuko, it was a crumpled suicide note, a bottle of pills, and a call to 911. Now, with the help of his caring uncle and new friends; the disgraced son of Senator Ozai must learn to cope with the after math, along with the years of abuse and suffering he has endured.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this because there is never enough angsty Zuko and supportive Iroh in my life. And especially not enough of the gaang comforting him, so here we are. Unfortunately, Zuko and the gaang don't meet until chapter 4.

It was black. The darkness cradled him, like his mother’s arms did so long ago. It snaked away his fears and anxiety. He felt at peace. How long had it been since he last felt this calm? Zuko didn’t know, but he didn’t need to. Soon, it wouldn’t matter; nothing would. He would be nothing but a name in the papers, disappearing into obscurity, a name forgotten in the rush of new information. He didn’t matter. He would never matter.

Again, the darkness lulled him, pushing the thoughts away, only to be replaced once more. He was dying, that much he knew, but that was his goal all along. Zuko wondered what would happen. Who would find his lifeless body - the bottle of Fentanyl pills spilled out in front of him? No doubt his father would turn it into a political campaign, playing the part of the grieving parent. He could practically hear the man’s solemn speech. Senator Ozai would talk about the loss of his eldest child, and only son. How if only they kept drugs off the street, if only he could have done something, how this is an issue that affects everybody. Azula would be close by, dabbing her eyes and hiding her smile, filling the role of heart broken sister. Together, they would reach out to every mother and father in the country, pull on their heartstrings. Even in the darkness, Zuko wanted to laugh. The world would be fooled, just like they always were, and his father would get his votes. Who knows, maybe Zuko would be good for something after all.

Suddenly, there was something in the distance, was there even distance in this void? The darkness answered for him, a ripple. He heard noises, voices.

_No_

There was yelling.

_God, please no._

The darkness started to fade.

_Please, please I can’t do this. Please don’t make me wake up._

The dark nothingness disappeared, replaced by a blinding pain, and a sickly awareness.

\--

Everything hurt, the opposite of the calming darkness. It was bright. His body ached, reminding him that he was, unfortunately, alive.

_Why?_

He had felt this far too many times, each growing further away from life. Maybe next time would be his last.

It didn’t take long before Zuko realized that he still heard voices. They were softer, less violent, and far more clear.

“How long?” he knew that voice.

“We don’t know; we’ve done all we can. It’s up to him now.”

“If it were up to him, he would never wake up.” Why couldn’t he place its owner?

“You’re a good man Iroh.”

Iroh? Why was his uncle there?

Before he could find a coherent answer, his consciousness disappeared once again.

\---

The pain was less; other sensations had begun to drift into his mind. Scratchy sheets, cold room, a pinch in his right arm, beeping from somewhere nearby. Most of all, a hand holding his, another combing through his hair, and a voice, whispering encouraging words.

“Please nephew. Please wake up,” it was Iroh again. Still, Zuko could not think of a reason for him to be there. “Please come back to me Zuko.” He sounded sad, why would he be sad? “I love you Zuko,” he whispered, was he crying?

\---

He groaned, Christ he was sore. His muscles ached and his throat was dry. Where was he?

“Zuko?”

Again, he groaned, letting his eyes flutter open, only to be blinded by bright lights. He blinked, waiting for his irises to adjust.

When they finally did, Zuko looked around. His uncle was next to him, somehow looking both worried and relieved simultaneously. He licked dry his lips, noticing the IV in his arm, and the dying flowers in a vase next to his bed. A hospital, of course.

“H-Hi Uncle,” he whispered, suddenly feeling very ashamed. He had lived, and now everybody knew. His uncle’s hand tightened, holding onto Zuko’s own.

“How are you feeling?” Iroh asked, looking around anxiously.

“Thirsty,” he simply answered, hating the situation, why couldn’t he had just not woken up? It would have been so much simpler.

Iroh nodded and stood. He opened the door to Zuko’s room, causing the boy to actually take in his surroundings.

The room was plain. A pale beige colour covered the walls and Zuko couldn’t help but think how it was better than white. To his right there was a large window, the blinds pulled up to allow the sunlight to stream in. The right side of his bed had different machines, he couldn’t even guess what they did. To his left, the chair where his uncle sat was now empty. Books and magazines were piled next to it, and the nearby trashcan was overflowing with empty coffee cups.

Zuko looked down at himself, he was still laying on the bed, having barely moved anything past his head. He simply felt too exhausted, both physically and emotionally. A quick check revealed that his arms were bandaged. The nurses probably wanted to keep his uncle from seeing how fucked they were.

Before he could continue a catalogue of his surroundings, Iroh walking back into the room, followed by a smiling black haired woman, carrying a paper cup and a clip board.

“Hello Zuko,” she greeted. “My name is Nutha. I’m your nurse for the day shift. I’m glad to see you're awake.”

Zuko didn’t say anything, he just nodded and looked away.

She pressed a button on the side of his bed, causing the back to move up, before handing him a cup of water.

He took it with shaking hands.

“The doctor will be here in a few minutes, but first, I have a few questions I need to ask you. Is that okay?”

Zuko sighed. Why did they always have to ask him a barrage of stupid questions? It’s not like they cared about the answers.

“Would you like your uncle to step out?”

He looked towards the man. Iroh stood by the door, looking uncomfortable. It didn't take long to resign to his fate. After all, it wasn't like this was new to him. “Yes.” He didn’t look at the man as he left.

The door closed and the nurse took his seat, her face unreadable.

“What’s your full name?” she asked, taking a pen clipped to the paper.

“Zuko-” he cringed, “Sozin.”

She nodded, “What year is it?”

To his surprise, Zuko had to think about that one. “2016” he answered. She nodded once more.

“Good, now Zuko,” her voice took a more serious turn. “Why are you here?”

He bit his lip, and looked away. He was silent for a moment, trying to think of a kinder way to put it. There was none. “I tried to kill myself.” Azula could have been more tactful, but at that point, he didn’t care.

“Do you want to hurt yourself right now?” she asked, watching him intently.

He shrugged and lied through his teeth, “I don’t know, haven’t really thought about it.”

She flipped to a different page on his clip board, before flipping back. “You took a large range of drugs, along with alcohol, including Valium, Fentanyl, and cocaine. Do you use these substances often?”

He shook his head, and was partially honest. “I've never have Fentanyl before, I got it from a friend” _If by friend you mean occasional dealer._

She wrote something down. “And the other two?"

He shrugged. “Occasionally.”

"Do you abuse any other substances?"

Zuko couldn't help it, he was getting annoyed with all the questions. There was no way this shit wasn't already on his file. He'd already been told several times that he's lucky he hadn't formed an addiction - yet. "Yes I abuse other substances," he snapped.

“Can you be more specific?”

He thought about it, “Weed mostly, some Ecstasy, cigarettes, Xanax, Ativan, Valium and cocaine you already know, only tried heroin once and oxy once or twice."

She definitely wrote that down. "Why did you stop taking opiods?"

Rolling his eyes he answered honestly, "the high sucks."

Nodding, she changed back to the original topic. "How often do you abuse these substances?”

“I don’t know.” _A lot._

 

 

"How often do you engaged in alcohol consumption?"

He groaned, “A lot, okay? I drink a lot. Excessively in fact. Just ask my dad, or my sister, or hell, half the goddamn city.”

Realizing she hit a nerve, she changed the topic. “How long have you been cutting?”

He hated that question, and that term. So few people knew that it threw him off whenever people asked. "Four years or something."

“How many times have you tried to end your life?”

“Fuck, I don’t know,” he said with more force than he meant to. “I don’t exactly keep count of my failures.”

He knew he shouldn’t have said it, but it was too late. The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them, and well, the cat was out of the bag. At least the nurse didn’t say anything about it.

“How has your mood been in the past six weeks?”

“Shit.”

“Scale of one to ten?”

Did she have to be so fucking instant? “try -30”

“Have you been feeling anxious lately?”

Anxious? He could have laughed. “That’s like asking a Canadian if their winter is cold.”

The nurse sighed softly and put her clip board down. “We only want to help you Zuko, but we can’t do that without your co-operation.”

“You want to help me?” he raised his eyebrows. “Get in line. Everybody always says they want to help, but they never do. You’re paid to be here.” He was getting angrier, “Don’t fucking pretend you care about a worthless kid like me. I don’t need more people pretending I matter.”

“I hope you will learn to see differently,” she replied calmly, “and discover that there are lots of people who care about you, and want to help you. I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes.” 

She smiled sadly as she left, giving him a look of pity. It only pissed Zuko off more. 

A moment later, Iroh walked back in and hesitantly sat down. He put his head in his hands, letting his exhaustion show.

Zuko tried to think of something to say, but he couldn’t find any words. He was tired. All he wanted to do was sleep. No, not sleep, die; but it was looking like that wasn’t an option for the time being. Besides, its not like it’s the first time he woke up in the hospital. It was, however, the first time he woke up to a family member with him.

Finally, Iroh looked at him, a pleading look in his eyes. “Why nephew?” he asked after a moment.

The question blind sided him. Why? Was he really asking that? “I-I…” he didn’t know what to say. How do you answer that question? Why does somebody want to die? The answer seemed obvious, he didn’t want to live anymore.

The older man let out a shaky sigh, “I could have helped you Zuko, if I had known-”

“Known?!” Zuko cut him off, suddenly angry. “You’re going to pretend you didn’t know?! Bullshit!”

“Nephew please,” Iroh pleaded, “I just want to help you.”

God knows how Zuko kept it together as long as he did, but in that moment, it all fell apart. “Help me?! Fuck off Iroh! I don’t need your help; I don’t need anyone’s. I don’t want it! I’m doing just fine on my own.”

“Look at yourself Zuko!” Iroh shouted back, “Nephew, you’re in a hospital bed! You could have died. You would have if Mai didn’t call an ambulance! This-” he motioned to the boy, “is not fine Zuko!” he took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “You need help. Please. This isn’t the answer, none of this. Not the drugs, or the alcohol, or the cutting-”

“Stop calling it that!” Zuko yelled back, interrupting him. “Fuck, the only people who call it ‘cutting’ are angsty preteens and therapists trying to convince me to trust them! It makes it sound like I’m some kind of over emotional teenage girl, slitting their wrists because their boyfriend dumped them again!”

“What would you prefer it be called then?” Iroh asked calmly.

“Fuck I don’t know! Just not that! Just- just call it self harm or something! Anything but fucking that.”

“Okay.” Iroh changed topics back to their original conversation. “I just want to help you Zuko,” he said softly, as if speaking to a scared child, or coaxing a wounded animal from hiding.

Zuko looked away, still fumming . “You can’t. Nobody can.”

Iroh watched him, before speaking. “You’re starting therapy when you leave here.”

He scoffed. “Tried, didn’t fucking do shit.” He turned back to his uncle. “Besides, dad will never let me go,” he spat venomously. “Wouldn’t want to ruin his image more than I already have.”

Again, Iroh waited before speaking, instead letting himself think. “Your father doesn’t get an opinion anymore.”

That caught his attention. “What?” Zuko asked, an edge to his voice.

“You are no longer living with your father,” Iroh explain delicately. “Ozai has asked me to be your guardian.”

That stunned him into silence. “He doesn’t want me anymore?” it hurt to hear how broken his own voice sounded.

“He wants what’s best for you,” Iroh said instead. “He thinks that a change of scenery will be good for you.”

Zuko hated how much it hurt. He hated a lot of things. He hated his father, how even now he still craved his praise. Hated who he was, who he used to be. He fucking hated everything.

“You should have let me die,” he finally said.

“You don’t get to make that choice. You’re moving in with me.” His uncle answered.

He felt like he was going to cry. He was unwanted. Stupid, worthless. Fuck, he really needed a drink.

“And I know you stopped attending school quite awhile ago, however that will change." His voice was stern. "I will not allow you to drop out of school."

Make that an entire bottle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you liked it! I wont be having a regular update schedule because my motivation comes and goes like the damn tides, but hey, I got this written. Leave a kudos and review! tell me what you liked, or what you didn't, even what you hope/think will happen!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anger is the easiest emotion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you so much for the comments and kudos, it means a lot to see! Also, the year this is equivalent to 2016. I'm not sure why I didn't just say 2016 in the first place, but here we are. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Zuko stared out the car window as they drove down the highway. The sun shone brightly, but it didn’t lift his mood. The past two weeks had been hell. He was admitted to the adolescent psychiatric ward three days after waking up. It was an endless routine of doctors and therapists, always asking the same pointless questions, only to hear the same pointless answers. A constant stream of useless phrases, and tired people pretending to care. He knew better. They were there because they had to be, just like him. Nobody cared, especially not about some worthless kid like him.

The ward was small, only eleven kids, all between the ages of thirteen to eighteen. Seven girls and four boys. He hated all of them. A few had tried to befriend him, with varying degrees of annoyance to anger in response. Mostly, he ignored them, opting instead to read whatever shitty book his uncle had brought him. Zuko didn’t think he had read that much since seventh grade, when school was something he still slightly enjoyed. Thankfully, most of the other kids simply avoided him, a reaction he was used to, it had long since stopped hurting. In fact, he had grown accustomed to the looks and general uncomfortable feeling most received around him. It allowed him the peace he craved. Iroh had visited him everyday, spending the evenings talking about nothing. Didn’t he have anything else to do? His answer came the day of his release, when, true to his word, it was Iroh who picked him up, instead of a member of his father's staff.

The meeting with his doctor was short, not that he cared for anything the man said anyways. Apparently, Zuko was still considered high risk, and was being referred to a therapist to help him ‘work through’ his problems, as if he could be helped. They also brought Iroh up to speed on his medications, of which there was three. He was suprised they gave him lorazapram - off brand Ativan - but apparently it was the lesser of two evils.

And so here they were, riding in a car along the highway to Iroh’s home. His bags were packed and placed in the back seat, and Zuko couldn’t help but wonder who packed them. He knew better than to even consider that it had been Azula or his father, which left him wondering. Had it been Mai? Or Ty Lee? Or had Iroh himself ventured into his bedroom and packed his luggage? In the end, he supposed it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like anything he wanted would be found in the black suit cases, as he doubted anybody would have packed his collections of alcohol or cigarettes.

He watched the trees and powerlines fly by, it had only been about twenty minutes, but Zuko was already bored out of his mind. How Iroh had managed to drive the forty-minute trip to the hospital and back for two weeks was beyond him.

“My home isn’t much” Iroh finally said. “I don’t spend much time there, but I made up the bed in the spare bedroom for you.”

Zuko nodded, remembering the things his father had said about the man. Iroh had served in the military, and was the favourite child of his politician father, almost guaranteed a spot in the Senate Ozai now held. He had given up on politics when his son, Lu Ten, died in service. Zuko didn’t know the details, he had been too young at the time, and his father never cared to talk about it. The only one who valued family had been his mother, but she had long since left. Distracting himself, he wondered what kind of place a retired war veteran would call home, probably some run down apartment.

Twenty minutes later, Zuko found himself proven wrong. Iroh lived in a mid-sized town, the streets were filled with locally owned shops, and children playing on sidewalks. He couldn’t help but feel irritated. Everybody just looked so fucking happy, as if nothing was wrong. But Zuko knew that was bullshit, everybody has secrets. Just look at his own family. His mother left when he was only eleven, his father hated him and saw him as worthless, while his sister was a manipulative bitch hell bent on ruining his life.

Iroh pulled the car in front of a small, white, two story house before cutting the engine. Leading to the house was a cracked stone path, overgrown grass edging its sides. The building itself was old, probably built 50 years before. The walls were covered in what looked to be a permanent layer of dirt, hiding years of sun damage.

“This is it,” Iroh said, unbuckling his seatbelt. Zuko rolled his eyes, ignoring the worried look on his uncle's face. Why did he have to be there? “Are you okay nephew?” he asked after a moment.

“Yes,” he spat, “I’m perfectly fine, I mean why the fuck wouldn’t I be? It's not like I'm sitting in the middle of a stupid small town because I couldn’t fucking die and my father doesn’t want me anymore. I’m totally fine!”

Iroh frowned at his outburst, but Zuko couldn’t find it in him to feel sorry. He was too angry; at his father, at the world, and at himself. His uncle simply opened the door and removed Zuko’s two suitcases. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Zuko followed his uncle along the broken path, listening to the way the stairs creaked beneath his weight and the door shrieked as it opened.

The interior of the house was nothing like the outside. It smelled strongly of candles and incense. Great, so his uncle really was a fucking hippie. The entry hall was small, and led to stairs opposite the front door. To the left was a living room, which seemed to contain colourful furniture and trinkets of different origins. The right side of the hall led to the kitchen/dining room. Iroh didn’t give Zuko time to get a good look, only removed his shoes and walked up the stairs, lugging his nephew’s bags. He followed. The sides of the stairs held family photos, most of which were of Lu Ten, although there was still enough of Zuko and his sister to make him cringe. They were all old.

“Bathroom is here” he pointed to the door adjacent the stairs. It was at the end of a very short hallway. "And your room, across from mine,” he said, waiting for Zuko to follow him before opening a door to the left.

The room was small. A large window in the center of the left exterior wall provided a bright source a light. In front of the window, was a small wooden desk. A single bed with blue sheets took up most of the right wall, while the door took up the rest. The only other furnishing in the room was a bedside table, and dresser. The closet was on the wall left of the door, however it was barely big enough to be classified as such. Zuko walked in, allowing Iroh to place his bags at the foot of the bed. He wasn't sure what Iroh did with all his inheritance, but he apparently didn't spend it on his home.

“Dinner will be ready in about an hour,” he heard his uncle tell him. Zuko just nodded. “Let me know if you need anything.” He was about to leave before he looked back, “Oh and nephew, the wifi password is jasmine.” With that, he left, closing the door behind him.

Zuko was thankful, he wasn’t sure how much more fake worry he could handle being subjected to in one day. The past two weeks had been hell enough as it was. Sighing, he picked up the larger of his two bags, not surprised in the slightest that all his belongings were so easily packed away. He was never somebody to carry around pointless things.

He unzipped it, and his nose was immediately assaulted with the smell of clean laundry. He opened the dresser and began throwing his clothes into it, not bothering to keep it organized. He’d be dead within the month anyways.

As the bag became less and less full, Zuko began to realize that he didn’t have that many clothes. Certainly not enough to fill an entire second bag. Ignoring the remainder of his clothing, Zuko opened the second, smaller, suitcase. It was then that he knew Iroh must have stopped by his house.

The bag contained his essentials. His cellphone, laptop, headphones, and all his chargers. Zuko groaned when he found his old backpack. It had been over a year since he had last attended school. It hadn’t ended well. The media had a riot the first time he got expelled. He remembered the headlines, “Senator Ozai's Son Expelled For Drug Use”. His father had been less than thrilled about that, as proven by the black eye he had been forced to cover up in the following weeks. It didn't take long for Zuko to fall into a less that ideal lifestyle; party all night and sleep all day. Always free ammo for his father's opponents.

Unpacking his electronics, he found himself wondering what the new headlines for the past two weeks had read. Did the entire city know about his failed suicide attempt? Or had his father somehow kept it under wraps? Zuko couldn’t imagine Azula keeping her mouth shut, she was always ready to trash him in the media. Had Mai said anything? H wouldn't blame her if she did. Mai was the daughter of Ukano, the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company, she could play the people as well as any young, pretty girl. Of course, she and his sister became friends. He really fucked up with her. Funny how the media had no problems harassing a teenage couple, especially when one was the resident family disappointment. Their entire breakup was broadcasted across tabloids and newspapers. Maybe that was why she called an ambulance for him, revenge. She hated him after all, why would she ever want to save his life? He fucked up so badly.

Angry, he pulled his phone charger from the tangle of wires and plugged it into the nearest outlet, right under the desk. If his face was splattered across front pages, stories written about how much of an ungrateful fuckup he was, he wanted to know before starting school. He really fucking hated high school. While he waited for the device to charge enough to turn on, he finished unpacking, throwing his school supplies into his small closet. Not like he’d be doing anything with it anyways. Iroh may make him go, but he couldn’t make him try. Not when there was no point behind the action, it wasn't like he was going anywhere in life anyways. Four years, and Zuko would probably be some homeless drunk, begging for money from snobby people, too self-absorbed to care.

Out of the corner of his eye, Zuko spotted his phone light up. Finally, it was charged enough to turn on. He held the power button and waited. The screen went black before lighting up once again. Almost immediately, it began to buzz with messages. He cringed.

The first message was from his dealer, the day after he failed to kill himself.

**U weren't serious about the suicide thing, rite?**

He really hated chatspeak. The Next message surprised him. It was from Ty Lee.

**Mai told me what happened :( I hope you’re okay. You scared us all really badly. If you need anything, give me a call, or at least, call the suicide hotline, okay? 1-800-273-8255 in case you ever need it**

Just like Ty Lee, she was always the concerned one of the three. Also, more than a little odd, but at least she was nice. Or pretended to be. The next few messages were the same as usual. Party plans, invites, and advertising of free liquor. The following must have been when people started to notice his disappearance. He almost found it funny, not a single person texted him more than once, as if he was nothing but a passing thought.

**Where were you last night?**

**Hey, haven’t seen you lately, your dad didn’t kill you, did he?**

**Yo bro u dead**

**I heard u tried to off yourself. Is it true?**

**U done drinking or smt? Whos gonna buy?**

Looking at his latest message, he felt sick. Azula. Time stamped a half hour before.

**Hey Zuzu, heard you’re out of the hospital. Good. Dad says go be the family fuck up somewhere else.**

Okay, that hurt more than he’d like to admit. Of course, he knew his father would have said something like that, it came as no surprise; but it still stung. He put his phone down and sat on the bed, his anger dissipated to nothing.

Everybody always bugged him about being so angry all the time, but anger was better than this. The feeling of nothing. empty, and sad; alone. He wanted nothing more than to curl up and die - or drink, that’d be good too. Maybe both. He fell onto his back before finally curling into a ball, ignoring the twinge of pain radiating from the still healing injuries on his hips.

Partying always made him feel better, everybody was too drunk to judge him, and before long, he always was too. He could lose himself in the burning warmth of vodka as it trailed its way down his throat. Forget his name in the beat of whatever music was playing. He was no longer Zuko Sozin, failed son of a senator; he was just Zuko. Nobody cared if he took off his sweater, revealing scar laced arms, most of them had it too. Nobody judged him, called him spoiled and ungrateful, they understood. Death was nothing to them, they were the 'troubled' kids, snorting cocaine off a phone screens to chase away their thoughts and forget their lives. They all knew that one day they could try to forget too hard and then it’d be over, but that was okay - it’s just part of the life. He'd lost count of the people he'd met that had died, either from suicides, overdoses, or the occasional murder. It didn't bother him. None of them were his friends, he didn't have any.

Everything swirled through his mind like a tornado. He felt sick. The world was too overwhelming. He found himself curling into a tighter ball, trying to get his now erratic breathing under control. This, this was why he partied and drank. Thinking was too hard, too dangerous. He wanted to die, why didn’t they just let him die? His arms itched, burning with the need to feel pain, to relieve the hurricane in his head. He was crying. Why did he always cry? He had to stop, crying was weakness, his father would not stand for weakness. Everything hurt. He needed to, fuck he really needed to. They didn’t pack anything he needed, fuck, didn’t they know it was the only thing that worked? He hated this, he hated himself. Fuck. He was such a child, what was he? Thirteen? He bit his hand, knowing it wasn’t the same, but it was better than nothing. He hated this, hated himself, hated needing this. He was such a fucking child. Stupid, worthless. No wonder his father didn’t want him anymore. How long until Iroh felt the same? How long until he fucked up again? After all, that’s all he ever did, fuck up.

He didn’t know how long he lay there, shaking. Everything was too much, he didn’t even notice his bedroom door open, nor did he notice a presence next to him, until a hand reached out to his back.

Zuko stiffened, going completely silent, but the hand moved in circles. It was a calming motion, one his mother had used so long ago. “Shhh, it's okay nephew,” Iroh told him, rubbing his back while he gasped for air. “Just breathe Zuko, it will be okay. Deep breaths.” Surprisingly, he listened. He felt his breath shakily leave his lungs, only to be slowly replaced. After a few minutes, his shaking had mostly subsided. “Are you alright nephew?” his uncle asked in a patient tone. Zuko only nodded, not trusting his voice. He hated to admit it, but his uncle had helped. Fuck, he was such a goddamn child. “Dinner is ready,” Iroh told him, “please try to come down and eat something, it will help." Iroh lingered at the door for the moment, obviously debating on whether to stay or not. He disappeared from Zuko's sight a moment later.

Zuko still lay, curl up, on his bed, ignoring his newly forming headache. After what felt like forever, he finally sat up. His face was damp with tears that he quickly wiped off. He felt sick, as was usual. An unfortunate side effect of his near constant anxiety was horrible nausea. It made eating difficult, especially when even the smell or sight of food could make him vomit. Regardless, his uncle was downstairs, and he had made dinner. If Zuko wanted to grasp even some of his dignity, he would have to face the man, pretend the entire situation never occurred. Despite knowing this, Zuko still wanted nothing more than to screw his pride, curl underneath his covers, and fall asleep.

Begrudgingly, the teenager crawled off the bed and trudged towards his bedroom door. If he didn’t go down, his uncle would worry, or at least pretend to. Maybe even throw him back in the psych ward, which was another two weeks of hell Zuko would rather not repeat. Like the stairs outside, these creaked under his weight as well. Which surprised him, not being able to hold down food didn’t do much for one's size.

Once downstairs, Zuko had more time to take in his surroundings. His shoes had been moved into line with Iroh’s by the front door, and a stack of mail sat on a shelf nearby. He heard Iroh in the kitchen and opted to procrastinate the conversation further.

Quietly, he walked into the living room. The walls were covered in red and gold wallpaper, and there were plants all around the room, both real and fake. A cream coloured sofa sat in the middle of the room, facing a big screen TV, surrounded by more photos. Some of these he had seen before. He picked up a photo that caught his attention. It was a family photo taken when he was nine, it included not only he, his father, and sister, but also his mother, uncle, and cousin. He remembered the day. It was just before Lu Ten’s fourth deployment. He died two years later, only a month before his mother left. He put it down and continued looking. The room had many other oddities. On the coffee table between the sofa and TV was a pai sho board, it looked like a game had been half played. Along the back wall of the room was a bookshelf, he walked over and glanced at the titles. They were organized alphabetically, and covered a wide range of topics. Many of the books were historical, about navy vessels and world wars, but a large subset seemed to be of the spiritual sort. Many were written on topics such as crystal healing, aromatherapy, energy, and spirits, along with a number of Eastern Religions. No wonder Zuko’s father didn’t like this man, he believed in bullshit, like feng shui and the powers of crystals. Other than books, the shelves were piled with boxes of incense sticks and clutter. One shelf in particular drew his attention. It held multiple figurines or different mythical creatures, such as fairies and dragons, along with crystals surrounding them. They were beautifully made and painted. They seemed to be placed purposefully, enough that Zuko didn’t want to pick them up to look more closely, for fear of disturbing whatever order his uncle had them. He turned his back on the shelf to inspect the room as a whole. It surprised him. Zuko had expected either the organization of a military man, or the mess of an elder. Certainly not a living room that looked like some fucking new age hippie store.

The noises in the kitchen calmed as Zuko heard the sound of a wooden chair being scraped across the floor. Finally, knowing he could not procrastinate further, Zuko left the room and walked into the kitchen.

The smell of pasta drifted through the room, leaving his stomach churning. The kitchen was larger than Zuko thought it would be, and almost all the appliances were stainless steel and looked expensive. Iroh himself sat at the table, reading through a large stack of paper, a half-eaten bowl of pasta in front of him.

“You came down,” he said, putting the paper he was reading down. “Do you want something to eat?”

Zuko bit his lip and shook his head. “Just-uh” he cleared his throat. “Just water.”

Iroh nodded and stood up, he walked over to a cupboard left of the fridge and took out a glass. “Ice maker and water filter are part of the fridge,” he informed his nephew before filling the glass with cold water. “Care to sit with me?” he asked, walking back towards the table. “We have some important things to discuss.”

He felt his stomach tighten, as it always did in nervous anticipation. He knew he shouldn’t have let his uncle see him so weak. Stupid. Iroh was probably so disappointed. Not wanting to irritate the man further than he assumed he already had, Zuko sat opposite him.

“Firstly, are you alright?” he asked, catching his nephew off guard. Nobody ever asked him if he was okay, but then again, nobody ever tried to comfort him either. He nodded. “I’m glad. Now Zuko,” he began, picking up the paper he had been reading. Zuko felt as if he was going to throw it. It appeared that Iroh caught onto his distress. “I’m not angry at you nephew, I just want to speak with you about some of the things the hospital talked to me about.” Zuko nodded, hoping he looked calmer than he felt, judging by Iroh’s face, he didn’t. The older man sighed, “Firstly, I was told you're hesitant to take the medication prescribed to you. Zuko, it is important that you do.”

“I’m not some fucked up child,” Zuko spat, immediately regretting it. “I just... I don’t need medication, especially not the ones they have me on now.”

Iroh nodded, “well, if you're really uncomfortable with it, perhaps we can compromise. Would you consider taking one of the medications instead of all three?” he looked at the paper again. “You were prescribed 1mg of lorazapram as needed to treat anxiety attacks.” Zuko fidgeted, of course he would choose to bring that up. “Would you be willing to try taking that one when you’re having an anxiety or panic attack?”

“Sure, I guess,” he shrugged, it was a least one he had taken before. Still, Iroh smiled.

“I’m glad.” Iroh shuffled around through his pile of documents. “Also, I must state this now. There will be no alcohol, drugs, or cigarettes in the house.” Zuko almost groaned before catching himself, it would do him no good to complain. “I’ve made an appointment with a therapist for tomorrow, if you like her, you’ll see her weekly.”

At that, Zuko did groan. “I told you uncle,” he snapped, “therapy doesn’t do shit. I don’t need to talk about my feelings.”

Iroh sighed sadly and rubbed his temples, “That may be true Zuko,” he said after a moment, “but it almost may be wrong, you said it yourself, you haven’t been through therapy in years, you’re different now.” Iroh continued before Zuko would protest. “You also start school the day after tomorrow. No arguing.”

Anger rushed through him. School? Didn’t Iroh know anything? There was a reason he stopped going in the first place, and it wasn’t that he was lazy. High school was fucking hell. Nothing but bitchy girls and stupid guys bullying one another on their way to the top, doing whatever it takes to be the best, even if it means ripping down everybody else. All teachers cared about was their grades, and how it made them look. “No,” he spat, letting his rage out. “I fucking refuse. Enroll me all you want, I’m not fucking going.”

“Zuko-” Iroh began.

“No! School is nothing but a hellish torture and I fucking hate it!” he pushed his chair back from the table, knocking it over in the process.

“Nephew!” his uncle called after him as he stormed up the stairs before slamming the door shut. Iroh could not make him, he wouldn’t go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it. Feel free to leave a comment!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> High School is fucking horrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and welcome back. I have returned from the dark depths of no motivation with another chapter for you. Poor Zuko gets to go through his first day of High School.

 

Surprise, surprise, therapy fucking sucked. He woke up at 11am and Iroh drove him to the pointless appointment. His therapist's office was on the third floor of a white office building, and honestly, Zuko couldn't think of a more depressing place to spend the following hour. Of course, when he got to the waiting room, he was proven correct.

It smelled too clean and sterile. Ugly blue chairs were lined against beige walls. There were children playing with toys on one end of the room, which unfortunately, reminded Zuko that he was there to see an adolescent therapist. Iroh went to talk to the receptionist, a bubbly blonde wearing far too much pink for Zuko's liking. He couldn't hear what was said, or at least didn't care to listen in, but the retreating sound of high heels on linoleum told him that she had gone to summon the therapist. Ten minutes of awkward silence between he and his uncle later, a way-too-nice-to-be-genuine woman named Kate walked into the waiting area and introduced herself as Zuko's therapist.

For the next hour, she tried, and failed, to get to know him. He couldn't help but be bitter. All anybody ever did was ask the same stupid questions, as if reading from a fucking script, which they probably were. They didn't care, least of all, this woman.

"What do you do for fun?" she asked, starting the conversation off.

 _Drink? Party? Get high as fuck and forget my own name?_ "Nothing." Zuko answered.

"What are your friends names?"

"Don't have any."

"What's your favourite food?"

He tried to think of a snarky response, but the only one he could come up with was true. Fuck it, "I'm usually too anxious to eat."

She nodded "that's good to know. We'll make sure to talk about that and see if we can do something to help it." She smiled at him, it was far too sweet. "What's your favourite colour Zuko?" He hated the way she tried to keep the conversation light. Like a snake trying to make it's way into his life.

"Don't have one."

After fifteen minutes, she gave up trying to get him to open up. At least she didn't lose her temper; better than most therapists who tried talking to him. Instead, she opted to take the conversation down a different route.

"How often do you feel anxious?" she asked him.

"Always."

"What about depressed?"

"Same answer."

"Do you feel like hurting yourself?"

Why did therapists always have to ask that stupid question? They already knew the answer. Its why he was there in the first place, wasn't it? "Yes."

"How often?"

"Always."

Her tone turned a tad more serious. "Do you have a plan to hurt yourself?"

He almost smiled, thinking over how many ideas he had daily. "I always do."

"What is it?"

"I'm not telling you."

"Why?"

He looked at her, taking in her face for the first time. It was caked in makeup, covering up every blemish. Weren't therapists supposed to inspire self confidence? How could she expect to do that with a face full of makeup, hiding her natural flaws. In that moment, he decided he really hated this woman.

"If I decide to enact it, you'll stop me."

He had ended up sitting in the waiting room for another half hour while she spoke to Iroh. Probably telling him how to safety proof his house and informing him of his nephew's fucked up mental state. As if the psych ward wasn't clear enough already.

The drive back to the house had been long and awkward, similar to the rest of the evening.

That night, Zuko couldn't sleep. He was to start school the next day, and his anxiety mounted with each passing moment. There was a reason he had stopped going in the first place. He was an idiot, and everybody agreed. He couldn't pass a math test to save his goddamn life, and science wasn't much better. He sucked at numbers, whereas Azula excelled. He cringed. School always made him think of his sister. She was always so perfect, the best at debate, math, and science, hell even gym class; she was amazing at everything Zuko wasn't. What was he good at? English, History, and French. All subjects his mother had encouraged, but his father scorned. In the end, Zuko ended up laying on the floor, trying to slow his racing heart.

At 7am Iroh came to wake him him, only to find his nephew already was up. He stared at the sunrise through his large bedroom window, table lamp still on, and bed still made. Breakfast was ready; he didn't eat.

A half hour later, Zuko sat in the passenger seat of his uncle's car.

Trees flew by as he stared out the window, vaguely listening to the shitty pop music on the radio. Classes started at 8am, but Iroh had insisted they go early to get his schedule sorted out. Zuko suspected it was more to make sure he actually went.

Iroh stopped the car outside a large, two story, brick building. It had a pair of ugly red double doors below a sign that read 'Main Office'. A few students hung around outside, but as a whole, it was deserted. "Here we are," Iroh said, unbuckling his seatbelt. He looked at his distressed nephew and sighed. "I'm sorry Zuko, I know you're unhappy, but you have to go to school."

Zuko was about to give an angry response when he looked at his uncle. The man seemed genuine in his words. "Whatever," he replied instead, letting his anger fall to the back burner as he unbuckled the seatbelt.

Together, they walked up the short cement path to the ugly building. Zuko's shoulders already ached with the weight of his backpack, full of binders, his laptop, and a pencil case. Iroh had refused to let him go without what he considered the essentials.

Inside the school, it was slightly less depressing. The main hall was large and had multiple black tables scattered around it. There we a few students sitting on their laptops. The office was to the left, next to a large trophy case. The case was full of pictures and awards, all of which went to sports teams, other than one. In the far right corner, there was a small trophy, awarded to a theatre group. He didn't get a chance to read any of the names before a voice drew his attention.

"Hello Iroh," a male voice said, Zuko turned to see an older man shaking hands with his uncle.

"Mr. Seng," his uncle greeted. "This is my nephew, Zuko," he pointed to Zuko as he walked over.

"Pleasure to meet you young man," Mr. Seng said, extending his hand. Zuko reluctantly shook it. "I am the principal of this school, and we're glad to have you here. If you'd just step into my office, I have your class schedule already prepared."

Zuko nodded and followed the man and his uncle, driving out whatever small talk the two men were sharing. It seemed his uncle knew everybody in town.

The office was small, covered in positive posters about achievement and success. It made him want to vomit. There were two chairs in front of a large desk, which Zuko and Iroh sat in. The principal sat on the other end of the wooden desk.

He opened a folder and removed a piece of paper from it. "Unfortunately, this far in the year, most electives are full," he said, handing it to Zuko. "There's only three left, I'll let you decide between them in a moment."

Zuko looked at the paper in front of him. The days were split into six classes, three in the morning, and three in the afternoon. Each class was an hour long, there was five minutes between blocks. Luckily, there was a forty minute lunch. He skimmed over the classes, only to reread them. "I think there's been a mistake," he said, cutting off whatever conversation the adults were sharing. "This says AP English and AP History..." the principle smiled.

"No mistake Zuko," god he hated the way the man said his name. It was so patronizing, like the way his father's colleges addressed him. "I checked your grades from your previous school. You were placed two grades above your peers in both courses, and you were still achieving a high grade in both classes. The staff and I decided that a challenge, such as AP courses, may be good for you. It's the same reason you're placed a year lower in math and science."

"Good for me?!" anger flooded him, he ignored how much it hurt that he would be a year behind in math and science. "Didn't anybody bother to ask me what I wanted?!"

"Nephew, please," Iroh said calmly. "You excel in those subjects. An AP course will be more interesting for you."

He looked between them. "Fine," he spat, "what choices do I have for electives?" he changed the subject.

The principal took the cue, "as I said, most are full. As of now, we have physical education, art, and theatre."

Great. Three classes he hated. After a moment, he let out an annoyed sigh. "Theatre," as least he would spend more time reading plays. It would be better than wanting to die in gym class, or showing off his non existent art skills.

"Wonderful!" the man said, obviously glad he avoided another outburst. God Zuko really hated this guy, stupid posters and all. Why were adults all so fucking fake? A few more minutes; and everything was set. Zuko would have AP English, Study Hall, and AP History before lunch, followed by Pre Calculus, Theatre, and Biology after lunch. He fucking hated high school.

"Your locker is 225, here is your combination," he said, handing Zuko a slip of paper with the numbers '22-02-19' written on it. "And here is a school map," he handed him another piece of paper. Zuko took both items, grumbling a thank you before following his uncle out of the room.

Walking out of the office, Iroh stopped him. "I'm reopening my shop today," he told him, Zuko nodded, vaguely remembering that Iroh owned a Tea Shop that he had closed while Zuko was settling in. "I'd prefer if you dropped by after school, instead of going straight home. It's only two blocks away."

"Fine," Zuko replied, energy disappearing. There was no point in fighting. Everything was fucking horrible and nothing would change that. All he wanted to do was sleep, or die. Preferably die.

Iroh smiled none the less, "here" he said, passing Zuko $15. "For lunch. Call me if you need anything."

He nodded and took the money, "thanks," he mumbled, shoving it into his back pocket.

"Have a good day Nephew," Iroh said, before leaving.

Zuko stood in the front entry. It was busier, although nobody paid any attention to him. He knew that would soon change. Rumors of a new kid travelled faster than wildfire in schools, especially a new kid like him. He looked mean, and he knew it. His scar sure as hell didn't help. Sighing, Zuko looked at the map and began the anxious walk to his locker, not quite ready to start this hell.

After five minutes of wandering, Zuko found his locker. It was in the middle of a hallway, which was getting busier and more packed as 8am drew closer. He looked at the paper with the combination before unlocking the locker. It was empty, thankfully. The principal said nothing about a lockermate, but he hoped there wouldn't be one. He wasn't good at sharing spaces. After a moment, he closed it. There was nothing he had brought that needed to be put in it, but at least he knew where it was.

Next, he had to find his class. AP English, room 2014, upstairs. He followed the map to the nearest set of stairs and walked up them. It was crowded and horrible. Students filled the hallway, standing in the way and talking. As before, most people ignored him, but it seemed he caught the eye of a few. Some girls made eye contact with him before turning away and whispering. Zuko felt his anxiety mounting once again; they were talking about him and he knew it. Fuck, he really hated being the center of attention, which would be what the entire day was, if not the rest of the year. At least at his old school, everybody knew not to mess with him. Even then, it had been out of self preservation and fear for his reaction. He could throw a punch, and was not afraid to do it first. After a few more minutes, he found his class.

The teacher sat at her desk. She was an young woman, probably in her mid 20s. Awkwardly, Zuko walked in, a few students turned to look at him before going back to their conversations. The teacher looked up at him and smiled, "Oh! Hello!," she stood up and walked around her desk, "you must be Zuko! NIce to meet you, I'm Mrs. Sato." Zuko shook her hand, he had to admit, she was pretty. Her hair was black and curly, while her eyes were bright green. Regardless of how pretty she may be, Zuko's heart still beat faster than a drum. His breath a quick and shallow. He tried desperately to get it under control before people noticed. "Well," Mrs. Sato began, "I hope you like English! We just started reading The Crucible, have you ever read it?" he shook his head. "Wonderful!" she reached over her desk and grabbed a book. "Here," she told him, "I'll send you down to the library with a reading list tomorrow, but for now you can borrow one of my spare copies."

"Thanks," he said quietly, taking the book from her.

"We have no seating plan in here, but the students can be very defensive over where they sit." He nodded, remembering his former school as the same. "The back is usually pretty empty, so feel free to take a seat anywhere back there."

Again he nodded, and went to the very back of the classroom. He ignored the curious looks of his classmates as he took a seat by the window, and others filed in.

Five minutes later, the bell rang and everybody went quiet.

Mrs. Sato stood in front of the class while everybody took their seats. As she had said, very few people sat in the back row. "Good morning class!" she said, smiling as the students chorused back to her. "We have a new student today, his name is Zuko, everybody please make him feel welcome." Everybody turned to look at him, and he suddenly felt even more self conscious than he already did. He knew they were looking at his long sleeve sweater, overgrown hair, and most of all, his scar. "Now now," Mrs. Sato said, drawing attention back to her, "no need to stare. Please open your books to where we left off yesterday. Who would like to be Abigail?"

The rest of the class continued in much the same fashion, volunteers read each part, as if it were a real play. Zuko actually found it interesting, it was a play written about the Salem Witch Trials. He was supposed to finish the scene that night for homework, and catch up on the few scenes he missed, and he thought he may actually do it.

His brief moment of contentment however, was soon crashed. The bell rang and everybody filed out of the room, rushing to their next period. Mrs. Sato let him keep her copy of the play until she could get a list of books together for him. He walked through the hallway towards the library - where study hall was apparently held. People were staring at him as he walked by, only to look away when he glanced in their direction. Why did he have to be the center of attention? God, he was so fucking ugly. Did they all have to look? He readjusted his bag and was about to turn a corner when he noticed something.

There was a boy standing a bit down the hallway, talking to a group of people. He had an unlit cigarette in his mouth, and a pack in his hand. As anxious as Zuko was, he really needed a smoke. Stealing himself, he walked over the to boy.

"Hey," he said when he was within earshot. The group stopped talking as the boy looked at him, flicking his black hair out of his face in the process.

"Do I know you?" he asked, looking Zuko up and down before his eyes settled on his scar. "I guess I don't, you're the new kid, huh?" he asked, holding out his hand. "Let me welcome you to this shit hole. The name's Jet."

Zuko shook his hand, ignoring how tight the grip was. "Zuko. Guess I've already earned myself a reputation." He knew this game. It was power play, dominance. This Jet kid was testing him, seeing how well he held up, some rumors must have already been spreading.

Jet laughed, "damn righ. Kid with a fucked face shows up, we all hear about it," Zuko bit the inside of his mouth, refusing to give. He would not seem weak, and he would not let anybody know how much that comment hurt.

"Well, care to let the new kid buy a smoke off you?" he asked, pointing to the pack. Oh the things he put up with for a smoke.

He smirked, "a smoker too? I'm starting to like you," He passed him a cigarette from the box. "Don't worry, first one's free," he winked, and Zuko tried not to cringe at how unnatural the action looked.

"Thanks dude," he said, attempting to sound nonchalant. Making friends had never been a skill he excelled at, hence the reason he had no friends. But then again, being a fucking freak didn't exactly help with that.

Ignoring Jet's smirk, he rushed off the his second period class - cigarette in hand.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the Crucible. Fight me. Also, Zuko's amazing love of High School is very similar to my own. It was horrible and I am so glad I'm graduated. If you aren't and are having a rough time, I promise it gets better when you're out of that shithole. Hope you enjoyed! See you next time!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aang and anxiety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! As promise, its time to meet Aang! Please let me know if I missed any spelling/grammar mistakes while editing, and I'll be sure to fix them asap. Enjoy!

As he expected, Study Hall was nothing but anxiety. Zuko spent the entire period staring blankly at his laptop screen. His attention was too scattered to even try catching up on the play, so he found his thoughts wandering to darker places. That time a month before he would have been passed out in some random house, a puddle of vomit near by, and other unconscious bodies sprawled around him. What he would give to be there now, blissfully unaware of the world around him. And when he woke up? He'd do it all over again. His life was a non stop party. Drugs were passed around like candy, cheap beer was like water, and he wished it was still that way. Zuko wasn't an alcoholic, not the way people define one at least. He didn't have to drink, didn't go through withdrawal when he stopped, same as drugs. Drinking just made everything a hell of a lot easier. It was like there was a layer, a veil, between himself and reality. He craved the freedom he had felt, instead of being caged in a school, hours spent wasting time on pointless assignments. He fiddled with the cigarette he got from Jet, barely able to keep the temptation down. He had to wait until lunch, no teacher would let him leave their class to go smoke, and he was not willing to explain to his uncle why he left class on the first day.

A yelp from nearby drew his attention from his thoughts, and he looked around to see a group of boys. Of course, it was always boys. He didn't recognize any of them, which meant they weren't in his English class. He was glad about that, he actually kind of enjoyed it and would hate for it to be ruined because some jerks were in it.

"Please, just let me go," a voice begged from somewhere inside the group, causing the boys to laugh. The situation was clear, this group had ganged up on some poor kid, probably younger and half their size. Fucking hell, Zuko really hated high school. He remembered what it was like when he was in that situation. Of course, when he learned how to throw a punch the bullying all but stopped. Physically kind at least.

Pushing his chair back, he walked towards the group, who were now being even less discreet about their actions.

"What? Are you gonna cry? Fucking faggot," ah yes, faggot, the favoured insult from teenagers in schools to grown men in bars.

"Should've stayed in your cult," another boy said.

"It's not a cult!" shouted whoever the boys were cornering. "They're my family!"

"Family?" a different boy said in a taunting voice. "Don't you mean the people stuck with you? In case you forgot, your _real_ family didn't want you."

Okay, enough was enough. Zuko started pushing through the group, there wasn't many, only five. In the worst case scenario he could take them. "Back off," he said firmly, pushing between two of them to reveal a very scared looking boy who he didn't bother looking at.

"Who the fuck are you?" spat a brunette boy.

"Somebody who's gonna kick your ass if you don't walk the fuck away," Zuko snapped back. He was always good at looking intimidating.

The brunette boy laughed. "What, you Aang's boyfriend or something?"

Zuko rolled his eyes, "best insult you can come up with?" he asked.

Another boy leaned over and whispered in the brunette's ear. "New kid huh?" he asked after a moment, and sneered. "Since you're new around here, I'll be nice. Name's Chan. I'm bigger than you, in fact, I'm bigger than most people. Know what that means?"

A smirk appeared across Zuko's lips. He may have sucked at making friends, but one thing he was good at, was making enemies."That your brain is smaller than everybody else's?" somebody nearby snickered, telling Zuko that they must have drawn the attention of everybody else. 

Chan snorted, not taking the bait. "You know, you're funny/ But I'm still gonna have to teach you a lesson for that."

"Well Chan," he made eye contact, letting the boy see the full extent of his scar. As much as he hated it, it helped scare the shit out of people. "Let me teach you something in return. My names Zuko, and you'd best remember that, because anything you think you can do to me , I guarantee I can do worse to you."

"You think you can take me? You scar faced freak?" Chan asked, stepping forward. In the side of his vision, Zuko saw the kid, Aang was it? take a step back.

He shrugged, still smirking, "Easy," he had forgotten how much he loved fighting. It was so much easier than conventional socializing. "I've seen your story before. Little boy makes friends with other little boys and beats the shit out of even littler boys. Does it make you feel manly Chan? Does it make your mom proud of you?"

Chan lost it, taking a swing at him. One which was easily avoided. This guy obviously had no idea how to fight. It barely took any effort for Zuko to grab his arm, twisting it, before throwing the boy onto his back. With a shout, Chan got back up and ran at Zuko, who in turn, hooked his leg around the other's ankle. Causing him to fall once more.

Apparently, the initial shock had subsided, because the rest of Chan's friends joined the fray.

"Hey!" Aang shouted somewhere nearby, "leave him alone!"

His voice was lost in the fighting. It was obvious that the five were not used to somebody who fought back. They must have assumed their intimidation would always be enough. Quickly, Zuko grabbed the arm of one boy, and threw him into another, knocking both down. Chan ran at him again, and he jumped to the side to avoid it. In the split second it took for him to recover his balance, somebody had thrown a fist at his face. The punch landed just under his cheekbone, and barely packed the strength he was used to in street fight, but still enough to bruise.

"What are you, a seven year old girl?" he asked, punching back. The boy hit the floor with a bloody nose. The two he had thrown down earlier were getting back up. They were unsteady on their feet, but would recover enough to fight in a moment. Zuko turned to focus on Chan, who was getting ready to attack again. Before he could, Zuko grabbed his shoulders, and slammed his head on his knee. He let the boy crumble as he heard a booming voice; the principal.

"What is going on here?!" looking around, Zuko say the rest of the class standing in a circle, parting for the principle like the red sea. Aang stood next to him, looking worried.

"Mr. Seng!" Chan said, pushing himself up. "This kid just attacked us!"

Mr. Seng raised his eyebrows, and looked between the two. "Office, now," and snapped, "all of you."

Zuko grabbed his bag and followed the group, his bubble successfully popped. He loved fighting, nothing felt better than putting people in their place, but of course, he always got the worst of the punishment. He was a freak after all; nobody ever believed a word he said.

The walk to the office was long, and only served to let his anxiety build. No doubt, Zuko would get in hell on his first day. How would he explain it to Iroh? If it was his dad, he would no doubt receive one hell of a beating for embarassing him, he wondered how his uncle would react. He didn't seem like the type who would hit his kid, or whoever he was taking care of, but he also didn't seem like the type who would be okay with fighting.

Once at the office the boys were sent to the nurse who was just to the right. Zuko was seated outside the principal's office while he talked to Aang. A moody looking secretary sat typing at a computer. After about ten minutes, Chan and his friends walked into the office. Zuko stood up, if they wanted a rematch, he would give it to them, in front of a staff member or not.

Before anything could happen however, they were interrupted.

"You know, if you're going to fight, you'd best do it off school property." Everybody turned to see Mrs. Sato, Zuko's English teacher. One of the boys opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand, silencing him. "Save it," she told them, "whatever excuses you have are for Mr. Seng to hear, not me." She looked at Zuko and shook her head before leaning against the wall.

A moment later, the door to the principal's office opened. Aang went to sit next to Zuko while Mr. Seng motioned for the boys to enter, once they did, he closed the door behind them.

An awkward silence fell over the room before Mrs. Sato spoke, "fighting on the first day? I must say Zuko, I'm impressed." she smiled at him before looking at Aang. "Are you okay?" she asked him.

Aang nodded. "Yeah," he told her, looking uncomfortable, "Don't worry Asami, I'm fine."

She didn't look convinced. "Maybe you should go home, I'll call Korra-"

"I told you, I'm fine. I don't need to go home," he grumbled before adding "and please don''t tell Korra."

Zuko tried to ignore the conversation, although he couldn't help but wonder what the connection between this kid and his English teacher was.

She sighed. "Maybe you should swap back to home school-"

"No!" he cut her off. "It isn't a big deal Asami, I promise. Just some jerks being jerks."

"I just think it would be best-"

"No."

"Okay," she held her hands up in defeat before turning back to Zuko. "Thank you for standing up for him," she told him.

"Uh, no problem," he replied.

She nodded, sending Aang another worried look before leaving. Silence once again settled over the room as Zuko stared at a wall. He didn't really feel like talking, the knowledge that any minute he would be punished was weighing him down.

"Hey um," Aang said, ignoring the fact that Zuko wasn't looking at him. "I know Asami already said it, but seriously, thanks."

Zuko couldn't help it, he turned to look at Aang, who was smiling sincerely. He hadn't really gotten a chance the first time he saw him. Aang was small, both short and scrawny. No wonder those assholes thought he'd make an easy target. But Aang's size wasn't the only odd thing about him. He was bald, and instead of hair, he had a blue arrow tattoo, similar tattoos were on both of his hands.

"Anytime," Zuko told him before looking away again.

"I'm Aang by the way," he said excitedly, obviously intent on making conversation. "I mean, I'm sure you already knew that, but a formal introduction is also nice. Plus, I never got your name."

"Zuko.' he responded shortly.

"Well, nice to meet you Zuko. Were you in the study hall block too? You're new right?" he asked, "Katara told me a new boy was in English. She's in Asami's AP class, it was you right?"

That caught him off guard a little. Who was this kid? He was far too friendly for somebody who almost got their shit beat out of them. Not to mention it was still weird to hear his teacher referred to by her first name.

"You wont get in trouble," Aang continued. "Mr. Seng knows I've had issues with them in the past, and I told him what happened. It helps that Asami will vouch for me too."

Zuko but nodded, not really believing him.

Aang seemed to catch on. "I'm serious, you were standing up for me, you won't get in trouble."

"How do you know her?" Zuko asked suddenly. Aang looked confused. "My English teacher," he clarified

"Oh yeah, you're new," he blushed, "sorry, forgot. Anyways," _wow this kid likes talking,_ "She's family. Well, not blood family. She's married to my older sister."

What the hell was this place? At his old school, a teacher would never get away with being gay, let alone if the student's knew it. The parents would throw a fit, his father included.

"She and Korra met while Asami was still in school."

"So," he began, he couldn't help it, "she's-"

Aang cut him off. "Gay? Yeah. Well, bi technically. They both are."

"And your parents are like, okay with that?" he eventually asked.

"What?" Aang asked, apparently confused. "oh, yeah. I don't have parents. Neither does Korra. She was my foster sibling, but we're still close. Gyatso, our foster parent, doesn't care at all. He's thrilled that Korra found somebody who cares about her as much as Asami does."

That was a lot to take in. One thing was certain though, this kid did not care about what people thought of him, or his family. Especially considering most people probably knew he was a foster kid, if the bully's comment about not being wanted was anything to go by.

"So did you just move here?" Aang asked him, changing the subject.

Zuko nodded, suddenly feeling very awkward talking about himself. "I'm just staying with a family member for a little while."

"Oh cool!" he replied. "Who are you living with? I mean you don't have to tell me, but maybe I know them. I know a lot of people in town."

"My uncle," Zuko answered, although he wasn't sure why. "Iroh."

"You're Iroh's nephew?" Aang asked, there was something in his tone of voice that Zuko couldn't quite place.

"Yeah?" he asked confused. "know him then?"

Aang nodded. "The entire town knows him! He owns the tea shop a few blocks away. He plays Pai Sho with Toph!"

"Who?" Zuko asked. His uncle was popular? He knew Iroh was known to most of the adults in town, but the kids too?

"Toph, oh yeah, sorry," he apologized again, "I keep forgetting you're new. She's a friend of mine. You know, you should come sit with me at lunch! You can meet her, and the rest of my friends! I'm sure they'd love you. I know Katara already wants to meet you. We usually take up a table in the back of the cafeteria."

Was this kid serious? Zuko remember the cigarette he had in his pocket. "Thanks for the offer but-" he looked at Aang. The kid looked so hopeful. Something about his face made him not want to disappoint him. Besides, if he went out smoking, he'd probably have to talk to that Jet kid again, and something about him made Zuko incredibly uneasy. He sighed, "Sure, why the hell not?"

History class passed without incident. The teacher introduced him as a new student before moving on with the lesson. Nobody really paid attention to him, which was better than being the center all attention, although he was still sure people were talking behind his back. He fucking hated that feeling. 

Eventually, the lunch bell rang, signalling a forty minute escape from classes. Zuko gathered his belongings, including a new text books, and pushed through the crowded hallways until he reached his locker. He was starting to regret agreeing to sit with Aang and his friends. He didn't know any of them, and the cafeteria was always so busy in his old school, no doubt it would be the same here. He really hated being around people, it made his anxiety go through the roof. They always judged him, or said cruel things behind his back. He already knew he was a fucking freak, he didn't need to stares and comments to reminder him. Besides, it wasn't like Aang would actually miss him, he was probably just inviting him to be nice. A thank you to the new kid who stepped in. That was it, it was just pity. Nothing more. And as soon as Zuko got there, he would be shunned and ignored. Why would anybody actually want to hang out with him? Why would anybody try to get to know him? Didn't they know he was a freak? That he was nothing but a worthless, stupid, fucked up, ugly, freak? He hated himself. Fuck he was having another anxiety attack wasn't he? He was shaking. There were too many people. They were watching him, they had to be. He couldn't breathe, and he was shaking. He felt dizzy. Why did he have to be such a fucking freak? What was wrong with him? He had to stop, he wasn't weak. Why did he have to do this? It's just lunch, god was he really that fucking stupid? He felt like he was dying, his stomach was turning. It was like his insides were discomposing. It was too much. He hated school. He fucking hated every goddamn moment of school. He had been standing at his locker too long, somebody had to be looking. The entire hallway was probably looking. Staring at the new kid having a fucking melt down over eating lunch with somebody. If Azula saw him, she'd make fun of him, make sure everybody knew what a freak her brother was. He couldn't let that happen, he couldn't let anybody know. He was fine, he was fine, he was fucking fine. He was crying like a stupid child but he was fine. Breathe. Breathe. Deep breaths. Breathe. Fuck. He couldn't do this. He was shaking and crying and he couldn't fucking breathe.

He reached into his backpack to get his phone. He had to text Iroh. He couldn't do it. Fuck. His hand brushed a bottle of pills. Anti anxiety meds. His uncle must have thrown them in. fuck fuck fuck. He wouldn't look at the hallway, too many people; judging, staring. Too much, too much. He texted Iroh.

**I can't do this, please can I leave?**

He waited. No reply. It had only been thirty seconds but why didn't he reply? Was he mad? That's it, he was mad. Mad that Zuko was too weak to even last a single day at school. He wanted to die. He tightened his grip on his locker, using it to steady himself before he passed out. He had to fucking breathe but he couldn't. Fuck. Breathe. Breathe. _I can't._ Fucking breathe goddamnit. _I can't breathe, I can't breathe._ Fuck it. He grabbed the bottle of pills. Throwing his pride to the wind, he opened the bottle. Don't look. Don't look at the people staring. He slipped one under his tongue like he remembered the doctor telling him to do. He was so weak. Fuck.

His phone buzzed.

**I'm on my way.**

Relief. He could leave. Fuck Aang, and Chan, and Jet, and everybody else. Fuck high school and anxiety and everything. The pill was dissolving in his mouth. It would take fifteen minutes to work. He didn't know if he could survive another fifteen minutes. He was dying, that was it. His body was shutting down. He still couldn't breathe, and hadn't moved from his locker. Iroh was coming. He could leave, but he couldn't calm down. Fuck. He hated anxiety. He was such a child. His phone buzzed again, how much time had passed?

**Outside.**

He slammed his locker closed and kept his head down. There were too many people, still to many. He still couldn't breathe. He pushed through the front door, fresh air hit his lungs. It helped, but it didn't stop. Fuck. He walked as quickly as possible to Iroh's car before opening the door and slamming it shut behind him.

"Zuko whats-" Iroh didn't get a chance to finish before he closed his eyes and let out a sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it, Zuko meets the far too happy foster kid named Aang. Over the next few chapters, the rest of the characters will be introduced (Including *spoiler alert* Toph next chapter!) I hope you liked it!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko meets a new friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. Not going to lie, I've definitely had this chapter done for a few weeks and just forgot. I hope you enjoy it!

After a few minutes, the medication kicked in, and Zuko felt himself calm down. He could breathe again, but he felt tired. Fuck, why did he have to be such a coward?

They were stopped at a red light as he rested his head against the window.

"Nephew?" Iroh asked, concerned, "are you alright?"

Zuko didn't move from his position. "No."

"I'd rather not close the tea shop today," he said sadly, "somebody is coming by. But there is a sofa in my office if you're okay with that..."

Normally, Zuko would have annoyed, possibly even angry, over going to the tea shop and not the house. After all, he didn't need a babysitter. But in that moment, he didn't care. He just wanted to sleep and pretend the day never happened. "Okay."

The rest of the drive was silent, it was only another two or so minutes before they were pulling into the back alley of the Jasmine Dragon. Iroh got out of the car, and it took all of his strength for Zuko to follow. He wasn't sure if his exhaustion was a side effect of the medication, or an outcome of his anxiety attack. In the end, he supposed it was probably both.

Iroh led him up a set of concrete stairs at the back of a red building. The door was metal, but unlocked. Zuko followed his uncle as he walked through it. As soon as he entered, he was hit with the strong scent of incense mingling with tea. They were in a small hallway. He could see the light of the main store area at the end of it, but Iroh didn't bring him there. Instead, he opened a small door to the left of the hall, leading to his office.

The room was small. It had a desk piled with paperwork on one side, and a red sofa on the other. A few plants were scattered around the room, all in all, it looked very similar to the living room back at the house. He watched as Iroh opened a bin next to the sofa and pulled out a white pillow and blanket. He didn't question why his uncle kept them in his work office. Instead, he simply took them and curled up on the sofa; before falling into a restless sleep.

Zuko wasn't sure how long he actually slept, only that he had spent a few hours in various states of consciousness. Iroh came to check on him a few times, but mostly left him alone. For that, Zuko was thankful. It was late afternoon when he finally woke up, head pounding and body aching. It took him a few minutes to remember where he was, and what happened. When he did, he groaned. He was so fucked.

With a sigh, he sat up and stretched. The room was not far off from his first impressions of it. Just like Iroh's living room, his office was full of clutter. There was a small bookshelf next to the desk, full of his uncle's personal tea collection. The top shelf however, was cover with of an assortment of different items; most of which looked like gifts. Zuko stood up and walked closer. Small clay artifacts were placed side by side with what looked to be birthday cards. He frowned, turning to look at the desk. It was indeed covered in work related papers, those; he didn't touch. However, the desk also had a plentiful of photos, all different from the ones at the house. It surprised him to see how many of the pictures were of him and Azula when they were younger, however none of them were newer than when he was eleven. A few photos were of Lu Ten, something that didn't surprise Zuko, he remembered how much his uncle had loved his son.

As Zuko worked his way around the room, a conversation from down the hall reached his ears. Iroh must have left the door open a crack, because he could hear what they were saying.

"I'm sorry, but my nephew is not feeling well as of now. Perhaps you can come back a different time?" Iroh said.

Carefully, Zuko snuck out of the office and towards the conversation.

"Okay," there was an obvious air of disappointment in the voice. "Sorry, I just got worried when he didn't meet us at lunch, and then when we figured out he was supposed to be in our drama class, but never came."

He came to stand just around the corner, listening clearly but successfully staying out of sight.

"Which is very noble of you Aang," Iroh replied. Aang? He was at his uncle's tea shop? Why? He wasn't really checking up on him, was he? Why would he even want to?.

"Are you sure he's okay?" Aang asked again.

Iroh never got a chance to reply. Instead, a very annoyed sounding girl spoke. "He said your friend is fine Twinkle Toes. Now sit down or get out. We have another game to play."

Twinkle Toes?

His uncle laughed and Zuko heard the sound of a chair being pulled back. "Sorry Toph," Aang mumbled.

"You have first move Ms. Beifong."

The conversation seemed to die down as whatever game they were playing began. Customers chattered to one another, speaking of meaningless topics like the weather.

Zuko was just about to sneak back to Iroh's office when he heard a dog bark loudly. Why was there a dog in his Uncle's Tea Shop?

"Hush Badger, I'm trying to beat him this time," the same girl from before said. The dog barked once again. The girl's tone changed. "I think somebody is there," she announced.

He flitched. Stupid dogs, he was never an animal person.

"Zuko?" Iroh asked, he heard a chair push back.

He bit his lip, debating on dashing back to the office and pretending he never left, but it seemed wrong. They already knew he was there, well, at least the girl and her dog did.

"Uh, yeah," he said, stepping into view.

Iroh stood at the table nearest the back hall, he smiled at him. "I'm glad you're awake Nephew."

Zuko nodded as he quickly scanned his surroundings. The customers hadn't noticed him, or at least had the decency not to stare. Aang and his uncle were both watching him. The only other person who seemed to be aware of his existence was a short girl. She sat with her back to him, but her head was tilted towards him. Next to the small girl was the ugliest dog he had seen in his life.

"What is that?" he asked, pointing to the beast of an animal. It was large and brown, probably large enough for the petite girl to ride it if needed. It's brown fur was short and dirty, causing a perfect juxtaposition to the girl in a white dress next to it.

"Is he pointing at Badger?" the girl, did Aang call her Toph? asked. Wait, didn't AAng mention a friend named Toph earlier that day? Well that made sense.

"Yeah he is," Aang told her. "But I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it, right Zuko?"

He raised his eyebrows. "That thing looks like it crawled out of a trash bin."

Iroh chuckled as Aang looked horrified. "You look like you just crawled out of a trash bin," the girl replied.

"Toph, you can't even see him!" Aang pointed out.

Zuko snorted. "Probably can't see anything if she doesn't know how fucking hideous that thing is."

In reply, Iroh spoke. "That is a correct assumption Nephew, as Ms. Beifong is blind. Badger here is her guide dog.."

Realization hit him like a train. He just insulted a blind girl's seeing eye dog and pointed out that she was blind. Fuck. "Shit, I'm so sorry!" Toph's shoulder slumped forward. Was she crying? No, please don't tell me I made a blind girl cry. "I'm really sorry!" he pleaded, looking at his uncle.

Before anybody could reply, Toph let out an obnoxiously loud laugh. "You should hear how worried you are!" she threw her head back and let the sound echo off the walls of the shop. For a moment, everybody looked at her, before going back to whatever meaningless task they were doing before. "I know Badger is 'ugly'," she told him after her laughter had died down to a mere chuckle. "My parents never stop telling me that, but he's a good dog, and it's not like his appearance matters to me. RIght boy?" The dog barked in reply. Carefully, the girl stood up and held out her hand towards Zuko. She was smiling wickedly as her dead eyes stared unfocused on the floor. "The names Toph. And you must be Zuko."

Hesitantly, he shook her hand. "Yeah, I am."

_Fuck this is awkward._

"Would you excuse my Nephew and I, Toph?" Iroh asked. When she nodded her approval, he motioned for Zuko to follow him into the back. Aang looked vaguely disappointed at their departure.

"How are you feeling?" his uncle asked as he opened the door to some kind of brightly lit store room. It was full of shelves, each holding different types of tea. Next to the door was a counter and sink. He opened up the cupboard below the counter and removed a teapot. He filled it with water and set it to boil on what looked like a hot plate.

Zuko shrugged as he sat in one of the chairs. Even after sleeping, he still felt tired and weak. He watched as Iroh took a can of tea leaves from the same cupboard as the teapot.

"Sometimes it's too busy out front for Toph, so we play Pai Sho in here," he explained as he grabbed two mugs. "Lavender alright?"

He nodded. Zuko had never cared much for tea, but his throat still hurt, and something warm would probably help.

After a few minutes, the tea was done, and Iroh sat across from him. They both sipped from their plain cream coloured mugs and listened to the ambient noise of muffled chatter.

Eventually, Iroh broke the silence. "Aang told me what happened this morning."

Zuko felt his heart stop. He had forgotten about that.

His uncle seemed to pick up on his distress. "I'm not angry with you Zuko," he said calmly. "You stood up for somebody, I'd never be angry over that. Although I do wish violence could have been avoided, I know how difficult that can be at times."

When their tea was done, Iroh took his mug and put it in the sink with his own. "It's just after four. I usually close at five. Would you like to come sit with Toph, Aang, and I?"

"Sure," Zuko mumbled, not willing to put up a fight. Truth be told, he didn't really want to be around anybody, let alone Aang, who was bound to ask questions.

They walked back to the main room, only to find Toph and Aang engaged in a not-so-friendly game of Pai Sho.

"And, I win again," Toph sneered victoriously. "Really Aang, you should work on your strategy."

The boy sighed before looking up to see the two. "Well, it looks like I won't need to fill in any longer, Iroh's back."

Toph merely smirked. "I know, Badger told me," she shrugged, "just figured I'd drive home how horrible you suck."

Iroh laughed as Aang allowed him to sit opposite his opinionate.

As the game started, Aang stood next to Zuko. "Hey, are you feeling better?" he smiled.

"Yeah," he lied as he rubbed the back of his neck. It was a nervous tell, he knew it was, but he couldn't stop it.

"I'm glad!" Why was this kid always smiling. "Katara and Sokka were sad they didn't get to meet you at lunch, but at least you met Toph."

"She goes to our school?" he asked, interest peaked. He remembered Aang mentioning that she would be there at lunch, but that was before learning that she was blind.

"Yeah," Aang nodded, watching his friend as he lowered his voice. "Her parents sent her to a special needs school for most of her life, but she finally convinced them to let her go to public school. She fairs just fine as long as Badger is with her."

Zuko looked back at the girl. She seemed pretty confident in her abilities, even playing a game like Pai Sho. In fact, she was playing it better than he did.

It felt like Aang wanted to say more, but was holding back. Fuck, Zuko hated the feeling of awkwardness that came when somebody was holding something back. The air filled with tension, which did not help his anxiety. Aang just rocked back and forth on his feet, he would glad quickly at Zuko, before looking back at the game unfolding in front of them.

"Yes?" he asked through clenched teeth after a few minutes.

Aang jumped at his tone of voice. "Oh, um, sorry."

Zuko only looked at him expectantly.

"I was just wondering..." Aang looked away. "Are you mad at me?"

That caught him off guard. "I-what?" he asked.

Aang looked back to him. "I mean, I invited you to lunch, and then you didn't come. I thought maybe I annoyed you or something."

Zuko only stared at the younger boy before looking back to his uncle. "No. I'm not mad. Just wasn't feeling well."

The other boy seemed to believe him, or at least believe that he wasn't angry.

A silence fell between them once again, and Zuko wasn't sure how to react. Awkward silences had never been easy for him, especially with people who apparently wanted to be his friend. Fuck this kid was so odd.

"Damnit!" Toph yelled suddenly. "How is it even possible for you to _always_ win?!"

Iroh chuckled in response, "years of practice my dear."

Badger barked in agreement as Toph reached down to give him a pat.

"Patience Toph, you are getting much better," Iroh smiled.

"I'll beat you one day old man," she replied. Her phone let out a chime and she sighed. "That's my mom. She wants me home early today, I was hoping she'd forget. Guess not."

Iroh nodded. "That's no problem. Will you be here on Sunday?"

Again, Toph sighed. "Yeah, after Church."

Zuko, who had been listening intently in an attempt to ignore Aang, looked the the other boy in confusion. "Church?" he asked, Toph didn't seem like the Church type.

Aang shrugged. "Her dad is the Pastor."

Zuko made a face. He had never gotten along with religious people. Well, that wasn't exactly a lie, but he didn't like most.

Badger barked, drawing their attention.

"Hey Twinkle Toes," Toph called to Aang. "Want to come over? My parent's won't bother me if you're there."

A smile lit up Aang's face. "Sure! Just let me text Gyatso."

He was sending the message when Zuko looked towards Iroh. The man smiled at him encouragingly.

Apparently, Aang's guardian responded quickly, because he and Toph were quickly leaving the shop. "See you tomorrow Zuko!" he called before leaving.

"See you, I guess," he muttered in reply. Iroh was still smiling at him, and Zuko couldn't help but feel annoyed at the gesture.

As terrible as everything was, at least he had a friend. Which was more than he had going for him a month ago. Sighing, Zuko left Iroh to clean up the Pai Sho board, and retreated back to the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Toph. In case you don't know, or forgot, Toph was taught to earthbend by badgermoles, so I named her guide dog badger. Stay tuned to meet more characters!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko meets the rest of the Gaang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a few things. First, I messed with characters ages a bit in this, so that they would all be in high school together. Second, I've been thinking about posting a short synopsis of what happened in the previous chapter at the beginning of each new one, as a reminder of past events. What do you think of that? Let me know! Third, sorry I take so long to update, my motivation to write comes and goes. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

That night was spent much the same as the last. Zuko paced, ignoring the small tugs of exhaustion that pulled at him from the edges of his subconscious. Sleep meant nightmares, which in turn meant an even more fucked up day to follow. He was surprised he didn’t wake up Iroh with the amount of time he spent walking between the walls of the small bedroom. If he were home, he’d have a steady supply of alcohol, and other desirable substances. Instead, all he had was the cigarette that Jet kid gave him. He rolled it against his fingers, trying to decide whether to smoke it then, or later. A few hours passed, and he made his decision. Iroh would probably smell the smoke the next morning, but he’d deal with it them. Opening the window before grabbing a lighter he knew was hidden in his bag, he watched the sun rise.

* * *

People walked past him down the crowded hallway, and Zuko wished he could’ve gotten there earlier. He hated being in such close proximity to people, especially when illegal substances weren’t involved. His backpack was already hurting his shoulder, but he suspected that it had something to do with the massive lunch Iroh had packed him, along with a thermos of tea. Thankfully, Zuko still made it up to his classroom before the bell.

There were only a few people in the room when he got there. Ignoring the eyes that followed his movements, Zuko took the same seat as he did the day before. He almost rolled his eyes at the cliché - the angsty new kid, sitting in the back by the window. All he needed now was a sketch book and he’d be the poster-boy of some new chick flick. Of course, a girl talking to him would help too.

As if reading his mind, a girl walked up to him. Zuko caught himself before he could groan. Just because he made the joke to himself, didn’t mean he actually _wanted_ somebody to try to talk to him.

“Hi,” she said once she stood in front of him. She moved a strand of long brown hair behind her ear. “I’m Katara.”

Katara, Aang had mentioned her, hadn’t he?  What was up with this little group and trying to make friends?

The girl, Katara, waited for a moment. Zuko knew she was expecting him to introduce himself, it was what people did in polite conversation. Of course, Zuko didn’t feel like being polite.

“Uh, mind if I sit here?” she motioned to the seat next to him when he said nothing. Zuko only shrugged in response. Smiling, she sat next to him. Why did people have to be so fucking persistent? “My friend Aang told me you helped him out yesterday.”

So that’s what this is about. “Yeah, guess I did,” Zuko answered vaguely, hoping she would get the hint that he wasn’t in the mood to talk.

“Look,” she said, a more serious taking over her voice, “I was the new kid once too. I know it sucks, but it gets easier.”

He tried not to laugh. Nothing ever got easier for him, especially not school.

“Aang seems to really like you, and this morning, Toph said you’re pretty cool.” _Toph? Really? He had barely talked to her._ “So I’m trying to give you a chance here.” He met her eyes. They were blue, unusual against her dark hair and skin. She sighed and reached into her backpack. “Here,” she told him, handing over a notebook. “Copy those in study hall and give them back to me in drama. They’re all the notes I’ve taken so far.”

Zuko took the coiled book with a suspicious glance. “Thanks,” he muttered. An awkward silence fell between the two as more students filed in. He debated on whether to say something more to her. _Well she’s trying to be nice and she did just offer me up notes… ugh. “_ I’m Zuko by the way.”

Katara nodded. “Nice to meet you Zuko.”

* * *

Aang found him in Study Hall, he had purposely sat as far out of sight as possible. Not necessarily to avoid the kids, but more to avoid the glares he knew he’d receive from Chan and his gang of assholes.

He had been quietly transcribing Katara’s notes when he heard Aang’s familiar voice.

“Hey Zuko, are you feeling better?” he looked up from his work to see the smaller boy.

“Uh, yeah, I am. Thanks” he replied, watching as Aang took a seat across the table from him.

“Are those Katara’s?” he asked, pointing to the notes Zuko was reading.

“Yeah. She introduced herself to me before class, and gave me these,” he shrugged, “it was nice of her, I guess.”

Aang hummed in agreement as he took out a laptop. It was grey and bulky, definitely older than any teenager would like. He must have seen him looking, because Aang sighed a little. “We don’t have a lot of money. Foster kid, remember?” he didn’t seem upset by the statement, more like he was used to explaining. “This was my sister’s from when she was in university. She gave it to me for my birthday,” a smile crept across his lips. “I think Gyasto and my siblings are planning on getting me a new one for Christmas, but I can’t be sure.”

Zuko nodded, Aang didn’t seem upset about telling him, but he still felt like he should apologize anyways. ”Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by looking staring, I was just thinking that it must be a bitch to carry around.”

The other boy laughed. “Yeah, it can get heavy. It’s only really a problem when I have to walk to or from school, but Sokka drives me most days, so it’s okay.”

“Sokka?” Zuko asked, trying to remember if he had been told the name.

“Katara’s older brother!” his smiled flashed teeth. “He’s in your grade. I tried to convince him to take drama with the rest of us, but he chose gym class. I don’t know why though, my cousin Suki kicks his ass everyday, has for years.” He caught himself before Zuko would ask. “She isn’t actually my cousin, she’s technicality my non biological niece, but considering she’s older than me; it’s just easier to call her that.”

Zuko nodded, agreeing with the statement, thiis kid’s family is confusing. “So Katara has a brother?” he asked, changing the subject.

Aang nodded. “Yeah, he’s a year older than her.”

“Wait,” Zuko started, “so Katara isn’t in my grade?”

“Nope!” Aang replied, beaming. _Fuck, he has a crush on her doesn’t he?_ “She’s a year ahead and in AP English, but she takes the rest of her classes with me. I’m a year younger than her, but I’ve skipped a grade, so it works out.”

Zuko raised his eyebrows. No wonder the kid looked so small, he was what, fifteen? Great, he was talking to a fifteen year old, a kid Azula’s age. If she ever saw him, she would never let him live it down.

They settled into a comfortable silence, but Zuko found his mind beginning to wander. How long had it been since he last downed a bottle of something? Three weeks? Fuck, no wonder he was being a moody asshole. Course, going without weed for just as long sure as hell didn’t help. If there was one thing that kept anxiety down, it was that. When had he become so used to feeling high? Oh yeah, when he discovered it stopped his panic attacks.

“Zuko? You okay?” Aang asked, drawing his attention.

“Hm? Oh, yeah sorry. I’m fine,” he looked down at the paper in front of him. “Just thinking.”

Aang seemed to get that he didn’t want to talk. “Oh, okay then,” he smiled before going back to typing. After a few moments of silence, he spoke up. “Are you gonna join us for lunch today?”

Zuko took a deep breath, hoping Aang wouldn’t notice. “Yeah, sure.”

He looked down at Katara’s notes. Aang was a nice enough kid, but he wanted to go home. Not to the house Iroh lived in, not even the the mansion his father and sister occupied. Home was with his friends that didn't care, with the string of vodka as it burned down his throat, and the feeling of happiness when the rest of the world faded away into nothing but a faint memory.

* * *

 

Just as before, history was dull. The teacher droned on and on about whatever the day’s subject was. If he was honest, Zuko would admit that he didn’t even need to listen to the lesson, he already knew it all anyways.

By the time the bell rang, he couldn’t wait to get out of there.

The hallway was packed as he weaved his way in and out of the crowds of students. Why did they always have to gather in the middle of the hallway anyways?

Instead of heading to his locker like he had yesterday, Zuko went straight to the cafeteria. It took him longer than he’d like to admit to navigate the maze of lockers and classrooms. By the time he made it there, he could see the familiar sight of blue arrow tattoos at a table on the far end. He would really have to ask Aang about those one day, but that day was not anytime soon.

The closer he walked towards the table, the more faces he found himself recognizing. Aang, of course, was there, talking to Katara. Toph sat nearby, her dog at her feet. It still weirded him out that she went to a public high school instead of a private one, but to each their own.

“Zuko!” Aang shouted happily when he saw him.

Zuko rubbed the back of his neck as he looked over the people in front of him. Aside from the three he knew, there was two others. The boy, he guessed was Sokka, Katara’s brother, if only because he had the same dark hair and blue eyes. Next to him sat a redhead girl.

“Come sit!” Aang said, motioning to an empty seat to the left of him. Zuko walked over and sat down. Suddenly, he was the center of attention, fuck he hated that. “Guys, this is Zuko,” he turned to him, “you know Toph and Katara.”

Zuko nodded.

“Well this is Sokka, and Suki.”

Suki smiled at him as Sokka stared in shock.

“Dude, what happened to your face?” he asked. It took all of Zuko’s self control not to sigh loudly, or launch himself across the table.

“Sokka!” Katara spoke up. “You can’t just ask that!”

Toph looked around, confused. “What?” she asked, “what’s wrong with his face?”

“Nothing,” Aang answered her. “Sokka is just being an idiot, that’s all.”

She let out a barking laugh in reply, “Well tell me something I don’t know.”

The table went silent for a moment, and Zuko realized just how badly he wanted to leave. He was considering making an excuse to eat elsewhere, when Katara spoke up again.

“So Zuko, Aang mentioned that you live with Iroh?” her voice was calm, obviously trying to distract from the awkwardness that had sprung up.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I do,” he answered, hating the way the tension that remained in his body. Carefully, he pulled out a metal lunch box. It was covered in beautifully crafted dragons.

“Cool lunch kit.” Suki told him, admiring it.

“Thanks,” he hated how fucking shy he could be.

“So why are you living with Iroh anyways?” Toph asked. Sokka was helping set her food out in front of her.

 _Shit_. He should’ve known this was coming eventually. “Uh, I was, uh, traveling around a lot, came to live with him now that I’m back.”

“That’s cool!” Katara said, “why were you traveling?”

 _Shit shit shit_. “I was, um, part of a traveling circus.” Fuck, he was a terrible liar.

“Seriously?” Suki asked, not sounding too sure she believed his story.

“That’s awesome!” Aang added in, “what did you do? No wait, let me guess, you juggled!”

“Yeah, sure, I juggled,” Zuko muttered. He was so fucking terrible.

“You should show us sometime!” Sokka exclaimed, “I’d love to see!”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, “I haven’t practiced for awhile.”

“So what about your parents?” Suki asked, apparently deciding not to push his obvious lie.

“Oh uh,” he bit his lip. “Family stuff. My dad’s a single dad, he was having trouble dealing with both my sister and I.”

“I can understand that,” Katara spoke up. “Our dad is a single dad too. We live with our Gran Gran while he’s away for... work,” She blushed a bit, “sorry, that’s what we call our grandma.”

Zuko shrugged. “No problem.”

“So let me get this straight,” Suki began. “Your dad was struggling, so you ran away to join a traveling circus?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve got a sister? How old is she?” Sokka chimed in, thankfully distracting them from the current course of conversation.

Suki reached over and hit his arm. “Are you planning on hitting on his sister or something?” she asked him.

“What? No way! I was just curious!” he sounded mortified. Everybody burst out laughing, aside from Sokka and Zuko, who wasn’t quite sure how to react.

“She’s fifteen,” he answered when the laughter died down a little.

“Cool!” Aang chimed in. “Maybe I can meet her one day!”

Zuko caught himself before he could laugh as well. “Yeah, maybe.”

Silence fell over the table as people began eating. Zuko ignored most of his lunch, instead opting to snack on crackers that Iroh packed him.

“Hey Zuko?” Sokka asked him after a few minutes. Zuko looked up at him. “Is your sandwich shaped like a heart?”

He looked down at the offending item, which was in a green container. Sure enough, it was shaped in a heart. He was going to kill his uncle.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you spot any spelling or grammar mistakes that my beta reader or myself missed, please let me know! Also, I hope you enjoyed the throwback to the episode Tales of Ba Sing Se, where Zuko tells a girl he's on a date with that he was a juggler in a traveling circus. Until next time!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New place, same vices.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. As it turned out, Aang was in his math class. It was nice to know somebody, even if he it was the chatty boy. Drama class was taught by an old man named Mr. Pathik. He was nice enough, if not a bit odd, but Zuko wasn't one to judge. It turned out that the entire lunch group, excluding Suki and Sokka who were in gym that period, were in theatre. He wouldn't call them friends by any meaning of the term, but it was nice to know most of the students in the class. Jet had made a point of sitting with him in biology, but at least he didn't try to make conversation, which was a nice change from Aang and his friends.

The walk to Iroh's house after school made him curse the world. It had been years since he had to walk anywhere. Even before he could drive, his dad had people to do it for him. Not to mention that most of his friend's had cars and drivers of their own.

A gentle wind blew through the streets and Zuko scowled. Aang had invited him to hang out after class, an invitation he quickly declined. What he wouldn't give for a beer, or a cigarette, or a line of anything, some substance to take away the lingering anxiety from school.

If he was honest, Zuko wasn't sure why he was still going. It's not like he ever cared to go before, and what's the worst Iroh could do? Hit him? Kick him out? It'd be nothing new.

He kicked a rock and watched as it bounced across the sidewalk. He had probably a good hour of pre calc homework he was supposed to do, and another half hour of bio. The only classes he didn't have homework in were English and History. Not that it mattered anyways, he wasn't about to do it.

After a few more minutes, he was unlocking the front door of Iroh's home. His uncle wouldn't be back until later, so he finally had some time to himself. What he wouldn't give for a drink.

He stalked upstairs, tossing his backpack carelessly against the closed closet door of his bedroom, before cringing. He hoped nothing broke, especially not his laptop. It was unlikely that Iroh would buy him a new one if his screen shattered because he was careless.

Sighing, he sat on his bed, there was nothing to do.

He supposed he could always go through any of his countless social media accounts, but they were all long since dead. Besides, he didn't really want to see how much fun his 'friends' were having without him. Not that he was mad, people came and went from the party scene all the time. Sometimes they quit, sometimes it was rehab, sometimes it was death. He smile fondly, remembering the girl that started carrying around a dose of Narcan after her brother died. If heaven was real, she was definitely going there, based purely on the sheer amount of lives she'd saved.

He sighed again. No point in day dreaming when the best he could hope for in this sleepy town was an occasional cigarette.

Maybe he should move, he thought. There were plenty places where legal age was 18. He could move to Canada, or Europe. Amsterdam would be nice, but it was unlikely he'd have the money to go anywhere. Knowing his luck, his father had already written him out of the will, and closed his trust-fund. He should probably look into that eventually, it would be nice to know whether or not he would get any inheritance. Too bad there was no way to do that without asking. If his father hadn't written him out yet, he didn't want to give the man any ideas.

He groaned angrily as he fell back on his bed. Why did he end up with the father who didn't care? What did he do to deserve it? Zuko knew he did something, he had to, there was no other reason for his father to hate him so much, other than him fucking up somehow. If only he told him what he wanted! It was always some sort of guessing game. He still wished he had a drink.

With nothing better to do, Zuko pushed himself off his bed, and collected his backpack from the floor.

He pulled out his math homework, looking at it long enough to read the first question and decide to throw it across the room. He hoped it wouldn't chip the paint. Next he pulled out biology. Was he really about to do homework because he had nothing better to do? Must have been Iroh's plan all along. It was genetics, which wasn't bad. Physiology was the only part of bio he was actually good at.

He got it about half finished before giving up. What was the point anyways?

He grabbed his laptop next and powered it on.

After ten minutes of scrolling through his facebook and twitter feeds, he got sick of that too. In a last ditch attempt at entertainment, he opened Steam. It had been months since he found himself bored enough to play one of the random video games in his library.

Iroh came home twenty minutes later to find his nephew completely immersed in a pixilated farming game. He chose not to interrupt and went to make dinner.

A half hour after booting up the first bullshit game he could find, Zuko's attention was pulled to his phone. It buzzed twice.

_Mai: Hey_

_Mai: How are you doing?_

Why the fuck was she messaging him. He debated on replying for a good five minutes before picking up his phone. They hadn't spoken in months.

He had two choices. Be polite and figure out what she wanted, or be a jerk and get her to leave him alone. He never was polite.

_Zuko: Fucking terrible. Why do you care?_

There. Just aggressive enough to piss her off, but not enough to upset her further than that. With any luck, he'll get a nasty response and she'd leave him along for another six months or so.

_Mai: I know you're hurting but that gives you no right to take it out on me_

Okay, so he wasn't expecting that reply, moreso something along the lines of "fuck off, asshole."

_Zuko: Whatever_

He sighed and sat back. Why did she bother pretending she cared? He knew she hated him, had since he first cheated on her. The only reason they stayed together as long as they did was because of media. He was still pissed that the tabloids paid so much attention to the romantic life of 13 year old kids.

By the time Iroh called him for dinner, Mai hadn't replied.

Dinner was simple; spaghetti with meat sauce.

He twirled his fork for most of the meal, barely eating more than a few bites. His stomach was still in knots from school, not helped by his brief conversation with Mai.

"Something wrong Nephew?" Iroh asked.

Zuko froze. He was so used to being unnoticed that he didn't even realize his uncle may be paying attention to him. "I'm fine," he snapped, not bothering to look up.

Iroh seemed unaffected by his nephew's anger. "You should eat more," he commented slowly, as if trying to choose his words carefully, which he probably was.

"I'm just not hungry." he replied, shoving the pasta away from him. "I'll eat it later."

The old man shook his head, "Eat it now," he told him. "You've barely eaten the entire time you've been here, you're too skinny."

He bristled. "I'm just not hungry!"

Iroh sighed and put his fork down. "Can I make you something else then? Something you like more?"

Zuko shook his head. "It isn't the food, I'm just not hungry." he was shaking. It was always weird to find what triggered an anxiety attack on any given day. Sometimes it was something big, like a fight or socializing, sometimes it was something small, like eating dinner.

He couldn't help it if he didn't want to eat. Then again, it probably had less to do with food, and more to do with Mai. He hated when she messaged him, wished she'd just leave him alone. Why bother toying with him like everybody else? It isn't like she actually cared about him. Why would she? Not when she was friends with Azula. He felt nauseous. Why did people always have to push on little things? If he didn't want to eat because an old friend messaged him and left him feeling like his inside were curdling, he shouldn't have to eat.

"Can you take a deep breath Zuko?" Iroh asked calmly, trying to drag the boy from his own thoughts.

"I don't need to take a deep breath!" he yelled. "I don't need you trying to babysit me. I'm fine!" he felt like a child again. "I just want to sit in peace, not be poked at and bothered, why can't I have that? Why can't everybody just leave me alone?! It's not like anybody cares anyways!" he was gasping for breath. "I didn't ask for any of this! I didn't ask for my dad to hate me, I don't know what I'm doing wrong! I didn't ask for you to waste your time on me! I didn't want to wake up! I didn't ask for my brain to be fucked! For medications and depression! This is just who I am and I don't see why you can't all just leave me alone!" He was crying, why did he always cry?

"Zuko-"

"Leave me alone!" he ran from the room, up the stairs, and into the moderate safety of Iroh's guest room. He slammed the door behind him as he slowly slid against it until he sat on the floor. It was too much. Why did everything have to be so fucking overwhelming? Wasn't he supposed to be an adult by now? That's what his father always said; he was immature, a child where his sister was an adult.

He let his head fall back against the door. How long until Iroh finally threw him out? It wouldn't be bad. He'd lived on the streets for weeks between stops home. It would be no different, only he wouldn't have a place to go back to.

He didn't know why he was so upset. He'd spent years carefully cultivating walls around himself, people pretending to care shouldn't hurt so much.

Or maybe that's why it did. He was used to people not caring. Used to his father ignoring him, as if he didn't even exist. Used to being the freak everywhere he went, used to being nothing but the dirt beneath a person's feet. He was so used to it, he barely felt the twinge of hurt when he was treated like nothing more than a ghost. Maybe that's why he wanted to die so badly. What's the point of living if all you are is a ghost?

People pretending to care though; that he wasn't used to. It almost made him hope that maybe they did care, maybe he was worth something. It just made it hurt more in the end, when they threw him away like trash. It's all anybody ever did.

His energy had depleted, leaving him exhausted and drained. Why couldn't people just leave him alone, instead of toying with his emotions?

He crawled away from the door, missing his old habits.

Surely it wouldn't hurt to revive one of his vices. It's not like anybody was going to stop him anyways.

He grabbed his backpack and pulled his pencil case from it. Inside was a cheap dollar store pencil sharpener. He looked at it with disdain. He hadn't done something this pathetic since middle school. Whatever, he needed it.

He was halfway through breaking the hard plastic when there was a knock at his door. Swearing, Zuko hid the evidence just as Iroh entered his room.

He looked older, Zuko realized, as if he aged twenty years in the last half hour. Why? "Are you alright nephew?" he asked softly, looking a the teenager over.

Zuko shrugged, wiping away the last few lingering tears. "I'm fine," he replied quietly, looking away. Iroh looked at the pencils strew carelessly across the room, his eyebrows creased. "I'm doing homework," Zuko replied, grabbing a nearby sheet of math homework. For once, he was thankful to have thrown the papers across the room earlier that day.

Iroh didn't look convinced, but nodded anyways. "Let me know if you need any help, I was always good at math."

"Okay," he replied, putting the work back in front of him and grabbing a nearby pencil. Iroh nodded and started to leave.

"Oh, and Zuko?" he asked, turning to his nephew. "Could you leave your door open please?"

Zuko looked between his uncle and the open bedroom door, before thinking of the half broken pencil sharpener hidden from view.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," he conceded. He waited a few moments until after Iroh left to continue disassembling the sharpener. Open door or not, he'd get want he wanted.

Every few minutes, Iroh popped his head into his room. It was maddening. Made even worse by the fact he actually had to do at least some of his homework, lest his uncle become more suspicious than he obviously already was.

Finally, the blade was free. He hid the broken bits of plastic, along with the now freed blade, in his pocket as he stood up.

Iroh was in his room with the door open when Zuko popped his head in.

"I'm gonna take a shower," he said. At home he never would have told anybody what he was doing, but he had a feeling Iroh would like to know. There was no point in fighting before he got what he wanted.

"Alright," the older man replied after a moment. "Towels should already be in there, just leave your clothes in the basket,."

Zuko nodded before slipping into the bathroom, closing the door with a click behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko's worst day yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So originally this chapter and next chapter were going to be one, but I decided to split them up into two for length reasons. I hope you like this chapter, the story is more or less beginning to take form now and actual plot events start happening from here on out. I hope you enjoy it!

As the week passed, Zuko found himself falling into a careful rhythm. It was odd, he hadn't had any semblance of routine in years. It was almost nice, not that he'd ever admit that. He was still waiting to go home.

"Zuko," Iroh called, knocking on his bedroom door Wednesday morning.

He groaned and reached for his phone. It was 7:03am. Did his uncle ever sleep in? Fuck it. He closed his eyes again, refusing to get up. What was the point anyways? He hadn't bothered to do his homework from the day before - aside from English, but that wasn't really homework was it? - and the teachers were likely going to make a scene. Not to mention his bio teacher decided it was the perfect time to assign group work, they were supposed to find out their project partners today. His stomach turned. If there was one thing he hated more than school itself, it was fucking group work. It wasn't his fault he didn't play well with others, besides, he prefered to do it on his own. It was funny, doing school work made him anxious, but not doing school work also made him anxious. School as a whole made him fucking anxious. No wonder he stopped going.

Fifteen minutes passed before Iroh knocked on his door again. "Zuko, breakfast is ready."

Zuko pulled the blanket back over his head.

After a moment, Iroh opened the door. Seeing his nephew, he sighed. "Zuko you need to get up. We have to leave in half an hour."

He couldn't see his uncle's face, but he didn't care. "I'm not going," he muttered, pulling his blanket closer. "I hate school and I'm done going."

It wasn't the first time they had this argument in the last week, and it wouldn't be the last either.

Iroh was surprisingly patient. "Why?"

He rolled his eyes. "Because it's terrible, isn't that an answer?" he spat the words, knowing they were muffled by his blanket anyways.

"It can't all be terrible," Iroh reasoned, watching the lump that was his nephew. "I recall you liking English."

Okay, so he wasn't wrong about that. "I can read those books anywhere," he answered.

"I suppose," was Iroh's reply. "But who would you discuss it with? I am not as familiar with the books you are reading as your teacher."

"I'm still not going," Zuko snapped, sitting up to glare at his uncle.

Iroh raised his eyebrows at the shirt Zuko had worn to bed. It was a gift from a friend of his. It was black with the grin of the Cheshire Cat with his infamous quote "We're All Mad Here"

He felt himself blush. "It was a gift," he muttered, pulling the blankets up to cover it. In reality, he couldn't stand the shirt. It reminded him of an edgy tumblr post, but the girl who gave it to him past away, and it felt wrong to get rid of it.

Iroh sighed a second time that morning before changing the topic back to their previous conversation. "How about you go for the morning? If you can't make it through, you can come home."

Zuko was about to fight him before remembering. Mrs. Sato mentioned she picked up some advanced reading for him.

"Fine," he said, looking away from his uncle.

Iroh merely nodded, taking the small victory. "Come downstairs, your breakfast is getting cold." He closed the door behind him.

Zuko listened for the creak of the stairs before getting up. It was better not to risk being seen.

His clothes were scattered across the floor, in a mix of dirty and clean. Carefully, he tossed off the blankets and crawled out from the safety of the bed. At least Iroh's house was never cold, it was a nice change compared to his father's home, or waking up in a park somewhere,

Picking a shirt off the floor, he smirked. He had woken up in strange places more times than he could count, and it was usually a sign that he had a great night. Unless he was woken up by a cop, that was less than desirable.

He slipped off the shirt he was wearing and glanced at his abdomen. His ribs still showed against his skin in a way that was less than healthy, but that was due to the fact he was usually too anxious to eat. It was a wonder Iroh still bothered making him breakfast, he only ever ate enough to satisfy the elder.

Grabbing a - hopefully - clean shirt off the floor, he found himself thankful that after so many weeks, the bruises had faded.

Taking off his pajama pants and slipping on a pair of jeans hurt more than he would have liked to admit. The fleece was soft against the new injuries on his thighs and hips, denim was not so kind. It rubbed and chafed. In the very least he hadn't bleed on the material, that would be difficult to explain. He made a mental note to buy some gauze and bandages before Iroh noticed that his were disappearing.

Looking around, Zuko frowned. His hoodies were buried under separate piles of clothes. He grabbed the first he saw and threw it on. He'd have to do laundry soon.

He picked up his backpack, which had been carelessly tossed against his closet door the evening before, and headed out of his room. It only took a few minutes in the bathroom to brush his teeth before he was forcing himself down the stairs.

The smell of bacon made him gag as it reached his nose.

Iroh sat at the kitchen table, a cup of tea in his hand as he read the newspaper. A plate of scrambled eggs, two strips of bacon, and a piece of toast sat on the table across from him, a steaming cup of tea waited.

Zuko dropped his bag by the front door and walked over as he checked his phone. It was 7:30, meaning they'd have to leave in about fifteen minutes, but Iroh could push it to twenty is he refused to eat, after all, the school was only five minutes away.

He pulled back the chair and settled into itm trying to find a way out of eating. He picked up the tea and sipped it: Camomile.

"I got an email from your therapist," Iroh said casually as Zuko sipped his tea. He couldn't help the scowl that appeared on his face. His uncle ignored it. "She said you still have an aversion to medication."

There was a lot of other things said in that email, Zuko was sure. His appointment the day before hadn't gone well. In fact, he had refused to say anything at all. He hated people trying to get into his head. He shrugged as he picked up a piece of bacon and nibbled on it. He had discovered quickly that it was easier to let Iroh talk than try to fight everything he said,

"I was thinking, perhaps we could come up with a compromise," he said carefully, waiting to see Zuko's reaction.

Zuko looked up surprised. "Compromise?" he asked cautiously.

Iroh folded the newspaper and place it in front of him. "You miss some of the freedoms you had before coming here, don't you?" he asked. Zuko snorted, that was the understatement of the year. "If you agree to try medication for two months, I'll let you borrow my car whenever you want."

He was silent for a moment. There was a lot of things he missed, but driving was definitely up there. He missed having the freedom to go for a drive at midnight if he'd wanted. He chewed his bacon as he thought it over. "I can borrow it starting when?" he asked, unsure.

Iroh smiled, "if you start taking it today, a week from now." There was some significance about a week, he had heard that length of time mentioned in the hospital, but he couldn't remember the relevance.

"That's bribery," Zuko pointed out.

Iroh smiled, "Yes."

He was quiet for a moment. "I'll think about it," he finally answered. It was too early to decide what he wanted to do, especially when it involved something that would alter his personality. Who was he without anger and emptiness? It's not like they would do anything anyways, he told himself, he wasn't depressed or anything, no matter what the doctors said.

His uncle only nodded before getting up. "You should finish eating," he said, taking his empty cup to the sink.

In the end, Zuko ate about half his plate. It was the most he had eaten since before the hospital, and there was no mistaking the glint of joy in Iroh's eyes, even as he scraped the other half into the garbage.

They were driving when another question popped into Zuko's head.

"When would I be able to use the car?" he asked, glancing sidelong at his uncle.

"At first, in the evenings," he answered, not taking his eyes off the road. "But after a few weeks, you would be welcome to use it whenever you would like. I don't mind walking to the tea shop."

Zuko scowled, "then why drive?"

Iroh laughed, "because I fear that if I don't drive you to school, you won't go."

He looked out the window again, opting not to answer. Once again, his uncle wasn't wrong, that didn't mean he had to admit it though. He was quiet for the rest of the drive to school.

* * *

 

As it did everyday, English class flew by. Aang's friend Katara still sat next to him but he couldn't figure out why. Everyday she greeted him with a bright smile and questions about how his night had been, and did he read the chapter they were supposed it? Wasn't that character amazing? What did he think about the historical context of that scene? It was... odd. Zuko wasn't sure he'd ever met somebody else who seemed to take a genuine interest in literature - other than teachers.

It was, nice, in an unusual way.

"See you at lunch?" she asked as she gathered her books at the end of class. No doubt Aang would ask him the same question in study hall.

"Yeah, I guess," he replied, ignoring the fact that he'd wanted to go back to Iroh's. It would worry Aang, and Zuko couldn't decide whether it was worth it or not. Packing up his own belongings, he sighed. He would have to stop by his locker and put some of the books Mrs. Sato gave him into it, his backpack would be too heavy otherwise.

Katara looked like she wanted to say something, but decided against it. Smiling at him, she rushed to her next class.

Zuko was much slower, always one of the last out of the classroom. Katara was nice enough, all of Aang's friends were, but he still wasn't sure what to make of her, or any of them really. Never before had Zuko seen such a mixed group of friends before, they had almost no common interests among all of them.

Sighing, he began the walk to his locker. He was piling his books inside when a voice drew his attention.

"Zuko, right?"

He turned to see Jet, the boy who had given him a smoke on his first day. The teenager hadn't spoken to him since.

"Yeah," Zuko answered hesitantly.

Jet leaned against the lockers, smirking as he played with a box of cigarettes. "What class do you have next?" he asked, taking one out of the package.

"Study hall," he grabbed his laptop. "Is there something you want?"

Jet laughed, "hey, no reason to be mistrustful," he flashed a smile that made Zuko's skin crawl. He ignored the discomfort. "I was just wondering if you would be willing to share a smoke with me."

As much as he disliked the boy, he would never turn down a chance to smoke. "We skipping class then?"

"What else would we do?" Jet answered and Zuko closed his locker.

The walk out of the building was surprisingly easy. Apparently nobody was concerned about what kids in a small bedroom community would get up to during school hours. He tried not to think about how Iroh would react to him skipping class, as he would inevitably find out. After all, he didn't want to go in the first place.

Jet led him to an alleyway behind the building. He passed the pack to Zuko while he lit up. After Zuko did the same, the pack disappeared into his pocket.

The effect was immediate. It had been little under a week since his last smoke, and nothing felt better than the rush of nicotine entering his bloodstream.

"You know," Jet said after a moment, "there's a gas station about a block from here that doesn't ID."

Zuko raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, just walk in and buy a pack. It's great."

He was about to say something when he felt his phone vibrate. Taking it out, he saw a text from Aang. He had given him his phone number a few days before, after Aang offered his own.

_Aang: You ok? Katara said you were in english_

He stifled a sigh as he took another drag from his cigarette. He didn't know why the thought of leaving Aang alone bothered him, he barely knew the kid. Maybe he felt some bond because he got into a fight over him, or maybe it was because Aang was one of the first legitimately nice people he'd encountered in years.

"I'll have to swing by," he told Jet instead of replying to the text.

Zuko didn't know how it happened, but one cigarette became two, became three, became four, and by the time lunch rolled around, he and Jet had smoked the entire pack.

"Not bad," Jet said with a smirk, "I knew there was something I liked about you."

"We have class," Zuko pointed out after a moment, but he made no move to go back.

"Yeah we do," Jet agreed, crushing the last of his cigarette between his boot and the dirt.

They sat in silence for awhile, neither prepared to make it back to the building.

If there was one thing Zuko had learned in the past three hours, it's that he did not like Jet. He was cocky and arrogant, and far too quick to assume he was right. In the end though, Zuko supposed it didn't matter, he had barely gotten along with most of his friends back home.

"Katara is pretty hot isn't she?" Jet asked after a moment, he was watching as a car drove by. That caught Zuko off guard. Jet smirked when he looked back at him, "you know, the girl in your English class."

Zuko frowned, there was something in his voice that didn't sound right. "Yeah I know her," he shrugged, "she seems nice."

Jet's laugh was hollow and Zuko found himself uncomfortably reminded of the worst guys he knew. "Nice isn't exactly the word I'd use for her personality, but she has other assets."

"Huh," Zuko said, biting the inside of his mouth. It was a risk to say what he was about to, but he figured he could take him if it went badly. In the very least it would change the course of the conversation. "Figured you played for the other team actually."

Jet snorted. "Well you aren't totally wrong." That was a better outcome than he'd expected. "Guys, girls, they aren't all that different." He looked at him, "have a problem with that?"

Zuko laughed softly, "no, I know all kinds of people back home."

Jet looked at him curiously. "Yeah, I suppose you would. Where is 'home' for you anyways? I heard rumors of a traveling circus."

He shrugged, cursing himself for the worst lie he'd ever told. "if you heard them, then they must be true."

Jet eyed him suspiciously.. "You live with your uncle right? Can't say I've ever had the pleasure of meeting him, not much of a tea person myself." He shook his head. "Not that I'm judging. I don't live with my parents either." He looked at Zuko and answered the unasked question. "Foster care. Parents died My dad: overseas, and my mom had cancer," he looked away. "There was a bill proposed to help people like her, but it was shot down by one vote." He laughed bitterly. "The same man who voted to send my dad to die, voted to refuse my mom healthcare, bastard."

Zuko froze. His father. Jet was talking about his father. He even knew the bill he was talking about.

"Something wrong?" Jet asked, looking at him curiously.

He shook his head.

"You know," his tone of voice shifted a bit. "I always wondered how a man could stand up in front of thousands of people and declare that he supports 'family values', only to turn around and deny healthcare and send soldiers off the die." He looked at Zuko. "I was always curious about his kids."

Fuck. "Kids?" Zuko asked as calmly as he could manage. "What about them?"

"What they must be like," he shrugged, "I mean the apple doesn't fall all that far from the tree right? I can't imagine they're very good people. Wouldn't you agree, Zuko?"

There was something in his voice. The way he said his name. He knew. Fuck. He really shouldn't have gone to school.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko finds someone else to help, or two someones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to have this up almost a week ago but I got busy, I'm in Seattle for my friend's wedding and let me tell you the drive from home to here is twelve hours and across a border, not fun.
> 
> I hope you're enjoying this story so far, I'm trying my best to put the irrational thoughts caused by mental illness onto paper, but it's difficult. I hope I'm presenting it well.
> 
> TW for self harm

He got to Iroh's house about halfway through the afternoon. Going back to school wasn't an option, not when Jet knew who he was. Not for the first time, Zuko cursed his father's conservative position in politics.

Unlocking the front door, he slipped inside and locked it behind him. He was dizzy and he couldn't breathe. It was like his entire being was telling him to run or fight or rip out his fucking hair. Everything was boiling over until he couldn't think, all he knew was that it was too much.

He pulled off his hoodie, needing to be free of the constricting clothing. He had to calm down. It was just an anxiety attack, he knew he was overreacting, but knowing did nothing. Somewhere in his bag was a bottle of medication for this exact situation, he could take it.

He ripped his fingernails along his arm, needing something - anything - to ground him while his thoughts spun. Medication in his bag -  _overdose_ , razor under his mattress -  _major arteries_ , bedsheets -  _hanging_. So many options.

Floor. He was on the floor. Where? Bedroom. When did he get here? Didn't matter. He pulled off his shoes, hating the way they felt constricting, everything felt suffocating.

Jet knew. There was no way he didn't know. Jet knew and would tell everybody, they would all know. One quick google search and his name was everywhere, written in articles about how fucked up he was, about his accident, about his father. It was a wonder nobody had figured it out before. They'd call him names - all of them - they'd go after him. It'd happened before, he wasn't safe, never safe. He was alone but felt hands on him. He would never get away, could never outrun his father's hatred, his mother's betrayal. He would never escape.

He dragged his nails down his arms again, desperately trying to rid the feeling of hands across his body, hands that weren't his, that he didn't want. His phone was ringing - ignore it, doesn't matter, nobody cares anyways. He was crying - weak, like a child, something do easily broken, stupid -  _Stop!_

His hands gripped his hair, pulling, pulling, harder.  _Make it stop please I can't do this please make it stop._  Is he pulled any harder, he would rip out chunks of hair.

Razor in his hands, when did he get it?  _Doesn't matter, never mattered, nothing - fuck._  Medication in his bag, medication that could - should - might - stop this.

He shouldn't have gone to school, shouldn't have gone out with Jet, but he'd missed his life. Missed the freedom of no school, of sleeping all day and drinking all night, of a line of something or a drag of something else, never quite knowing what it was. He needed the feeling of nicotine in his blood, needed alcohol in his veins, needed something to ground him.

He was bleeding, too much, way too much. Doesn't matter. He wouldn't die, and even if he did, whatever.

His breathing was evening out again, thoughts returning to normal. He knew he should get up, stop the bleeding before it stained the carpet, but he didn't. He stared at his arm as blood dripped onto the floor, and couldn't find it in himself to care.

It was always like that, really. Anxiety attacks were violent and sudden, made him feel like his blood was boiling, like his very cells were decaying, like he was dying. But as soon as it ended, he was devoid of feeling, left empty.

* * *

 

"Zuko!"

He must have fallen asleep.

Cringing, Zuko pushed himself off the floor, his arm almost giving out under his weight. Iroh was downstairs, fuck.

"O-one minute!" he called and cursed himself for the way his voice cracked and shook. Apparently, Iroh didn't want to wait, only started up the stairs.

There was a small puddle of rust red blood dried on his carpet, his arms were covered in deep scratch marks, and the one was bleeding again. He had no time to cover anything up, no time to think of an excuse. He hadn't even closed the door.

"Zuko the school-" Iroh froze in the doorway as he took in the scene before him.

Zuko cringed as he saw a series of emotions cross Iroh's face: concern, anger, sadness, back to concern, and finally unreadable.

The air in the room changed, tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Let me see," Iroh said, stepping into the room, he reached for Zuko's arm, he flinched. Father was always angry when he - "Zuko," Iroh's voice was stern.

He shifted away from his uncle, shaking his head. "It's fine, I'm sorry, I won't - I'm sorry," he was panicking again.

Iroh glanced at the blood on the carpet before looking back at his nephew. "I have to make sure you aren't in any danger, please-"

Zuko cut him off. "I'm not going back!" he yelled, staggering to his feet. "I'm not going back to the hospital, you can't make me. If you don't want me here, fine, I'll leave. I can live on my own, but I'm not going back."

Iroh took a step towards him again, and he hated the way he flinched. "Please don't hurt me," he begged, suddenly sounding like the child he was so often told he was. "Please, I - I'll -" he was trying to form words, but couldn't.

Something flashed in Iroh's eyes, and Zuko couldn't tell whether it was realization, disappointment, or anger. He wasn't willing to find out. His uncle had been in the military, chances were good that he was still stronger than his father. Why did he ever start to feel comfortable? He should have known better, he should have -

"Zuko," the words were soft, like he was speaking to a frightened animal. "I'm not going to hurt-" he took half a step forward in Zuko's mind blanked.

He lunged for the opening his uncle had left before Iroh could process what had happened. Moving as fast as his shaking limbs would let him, he ran down the stairs and out the front door. Iroh was yelling something after him, but he stop to listen to it.

Only after his mind cleared and his body slowed, did he realize three things at the same moment.

First, It was raining - pouring actually - and had been for awhile if his soaked clothing and the wet pavement was anything to go by.

Second. He had nothing with him. Not his phone or wallet, not even a jacket or hoodie. Hell, he didn't even have shoes.

Third, he had absolutely no fucking idea where he was. He was standing in the middle of a generic street in a generic town with no discernible landmarks other than street signs, which were no help. He wasn't even sure how long he had been running.

Zuko cringed, he knew he'd have to go back to Iroh's, but he was not looking forward to it. He walked down the street, ignoring the rain while he thought.

No doubt Iroh would be furious, as nice as the man seemed to be, he was still his father's brother. Not only that, he had bled on the man's carpet, blood stains were a bitch to get out, and then he ran. When he got back Iroh was going to -

"Hey are you okay?" a voice called from behind him.

He turned to see a woman a few years older than him walking closer. Her short brown hair was dry under her umbrella, as were the groceries she was carrying.

He wasn't sure what to do in that situation. Should he run? She might think he was a criminal and call the cops, or chase after him herself. She looked like she could catch him if she tried, well built as she was.

She was getting closer, he could see her eyebrows crease when he didn't reply. He opened his mouth, trying to form a sentence. He couldn't, everything was too overwhelming.

"Are you  _bleeding_?" she asked when she was only a few feet away. He had to give her credit, if she noticed his scar, she didn't stare.

Zuko stood frozen. For all the running he had done earlier, he couldn't bring himself to move. "I-" he coughed, "I'm fine." It sounded pitiful, even to his own ears. Fuck, he was such a child.

The woman's face shifted into something that looked almost like understanding. "Hey, um," she looked around. "Listen, you're soaking wet and obviously something is wrong. My house is only a block away," she was only a few steps from him, "why don't you come with me? We'll get you into something dry, maybe look at that arm of yours, and figure out where to go from there."

He wanted to refuse, he really did, but where else would he go? The rain didn't seem to be letting up anytime soon, he was still hopelessly lost and alone. What's the worst that could happen? Murder? Wouldn't that be a blessing.

Hesitantly, he nodded.

The woman smiled and took a few more steps until she stood directly in front of him. "My name's Korra," she introduced herself as she held out her hand.

The name sounded familiar. "Aang's sister," it dawned on him where he'd heard it before. He pulled away.

"Yes," she said quickly - pleadingly, but she didn't reach for him. He was thankful for that. "But I won't tell him anything," she answered, and he stopped.

"You - You're married to my English teacher," he whispered, he couldn't decide if it was a good thing or not. He never really trusted adults.

Korra nodded, "yes I am," she looked at him curiously. "I think she told me about you," she explained. "You're new, aren't you?"

Hesitantly, he nodded.

She smiled softly at him. "I'm sorry, Asami told me your name, but I can't remember."

"Zuko," he answered quietly, looking away. He wondered what she'd heard.

"Well Zuko," her voice was soft, something about it pulled at him, but he couldn't place it. It wasn't familiarity persay. "My point still stands, it's freezing out here, you're soaking wet, and I probably have dinner waiting for me," she started walking, "are you coming?"

He wasn't sure why he trusted her. Maybe it was because she was Aang's sister, but he barely knew the kid. Maybe it was because she knew of him, or maybe it was because she was married to the person who was quite possibly his favourite teacher in a decade. No matter the reason, he followed her.

* * *

 

Korra and Asami Sato lived in a small one floor house. Their lawn was covered in perfectly trimmed grass and beautiful flowers.

"Asami," Korra called, stepping across the threshold, Zuko a step behind her.

"Yes love?" Asami called from another room. He could hear the sounds of cooking in the kitchen.

She hung her umbrella on a hook next to the door, and did the same for her coat. "Can you get the first aid kit for me?" she asked, "and some clothes? We have a guest."

"A guest?" Zuko heard Asami ask curiously as she walked towards them. She stood in the archway, illuminated by a soft light, when her eyes settled on Zuko. She paled. "Yes, of course." She was gone in a flash.

Korra smiled at him and motioned for him to follow her. "Don't worry, we'll clean up the water."

He nodded and followed her into the kitchen. It was small and lit by a warm light. The counters were a pale yellow with a green countertop. There was a pot of something simmering on the stove. Korra led him to a small table at the side of the room, half piled with books and what looked like students' assignments. "Here," she said, pulling out a chair for him.

Zuko sat reluctantly and glanced around the room. There were two archways other than the one he'd entered the room through. One, to his left, led into a dark room, probably the livingroom. The other, to his right, was a hallway, a door open at the end of it. From what he could see, it looked like a bedroom.

The wall next to the table was covered in photographs. He recognized Korra and Asami in most of them, but some were up people he hadn't seen before. He shouldn't have been surprised, but Aang was also in a lot of them.

After a moment, Asami appeared in the kitchen again. In her arms she held what looked to be a first aid kit, some clothes, and towels.

"Here," she told him, handing the kit to Korra and the rest to Zuko. "Bathroom is the first door on the right," she pointed to the hallway. "Just leave your clothes on the floor, I'll throw them in the dryer for you." He nodded. "Come out and we'll get you something to eat, okay?"

Until she mentioned it, Zuko hadn't realized how hungry he was. He hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning. Carefully, he took the clothes and towels from her and walked towards the bathroom.

There were more photos in the hallway, but he didn't care to look at them.

The bathroom was small, holding a sink, toilet, and bath/shower. It was decorated with fish imagery and everything was different shades of blue. He guessed his teacher had been the one to decorate. Even though he didn't know Korra, it didn't seem like her taste.

He was careful of his arm as he slipped off his shirt. The one he was given was purple with the letters NYU written on it. He'd know university swag anywhere. The pants were plain black sweatpants, and he was glad. It was awkward enough to be wearing their clothes. Catching his appearance in the mirror, he sighed. He towel dried his hair in an attempt to look less like hell. It didn't do much to help.

He was opening the door when he froze. He could hear Korra and Asami speaking in low voices.

"...don't know. He was just standing in the rain, and then I realize he was bleeding and-" that was Korra.

"You did the right thing," his teacher's soft voice said. "We'll warm him up, feed him, and figure out what happened."

"Okay."

He left his clothes on the floor like he'd been told, and stepped into the hallways.

Korra looked up from the table and smiled again, "hey, come here," she asked, nodding to a chair pulled up next to hers.

Almost like he was in a dream, Zuko walked towards her and took a seat.

On the table was gauze, bandages, a small pair of scissors, a needle and thread, and disinfectant.

"I'm a paramedic," she told him as he looked over the items. She had a pair of latex gloves on. "And I really need to look at your arm.I can take you to the hospital if you prefer-"

He shook his head. It wasn't the first time he'd gotten stitches, it wasn't even the most awkward. That was reserved for a half naked girl under a bridge when an older injury reopened. He had a massive scar on his thigh from that. He didn't need the area numbed like they'd do in an emergency room anyways. Besides, they'd probably readmit him.

He didn't say anything, only held up his arm to her. Korra took it carefully and began to clean the wound. He flinched at the first touch of the antiseptic wipe and looked away.

Asami wasn't in the room anymore, but he heard her moving somewhere down the hall. A moment later, what sounded like a dryer turned on. When she came back, she busied herself in the kitchen. Eventually, she collected three bowls from the cupboard, and started scooping rice from a pot into each of them. Next she scooped what looked to be some kind of stir fry into the bowls. By the time Korra was wrapping his arm up with bandages, Asami was putting the food on the table.

"Thank you," he said softly as she placed a bowl in front of him.

She smiled and sat next to him, opposite Korra.

The air was thick as they ate, silence almost overwhelming before Korra broke it. "Fuck this," she stated looking at Zuko, Asami choked for a moment. "Why were you wandering around in the middle of pouring rain?"

He was caught off guard. Very few people were so blunt with him.

"Korra!" Asami tried to scold, but she shook her head.

"No, we need to know," she replied, not taking her eyes off Zuko. "Those are some old scars you have," she told him, glancing at his arms. "And I'm guessing there's more too. Now I don't know a lot about your situation, nothing if I'm honest, but I know that something is very wrong in your life."

Zuko honestly didn't know what to say.

"Zuko," his teacher's voice was soft as she drew his attention. She smiled softly at him, "I know this is hard, and I know you must be feeling incredibly upset and distressed," she glared before Korra could say anything, "but you can trust us, okay?"

He hated how kind she sounded.

"You can trust us," Korra repeated to him. He turned back to her. "I know the world sucks, but whatever is going on, this isn't the answer."

"How could you possibly know that?" he snapped, "You don't know anything about me!"

He was about to stand up when Korra grabbed his arm gently. "I know because I've been there," she said before he could pull away. Zuko froze and looked between her and his teacher.

Asami had a soft look in her eyes, one that told him her wife wasn't lying. Korra met his eyes and held his gaze until he finally sat down.

She sighed, holding her arm out between them. Bare, he saw it was covered in tattoos. Looking closer, he saw old scars hidden under the ink. "I was a foster kid," she reminded him, as she pulled her arm away, "I understand."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, it takes somebody who understands to open up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I'm honest, I meant to have this up like two weeks ago but I was in Seattle for the first time so I was a bit busy. I hope you like this chapter! I definitely do.

He told them - not all of it, he'd never tell somebody all of it - but he told them enough.

The rain pattered against the roof of their house, echoing through the kitchen.

"I had some...problems," he examined the stitches on his arm. "I ended up in the hospital and came to live with my uncle." He sighed. "It just kind of sucks. I miss my home, and my friends. Everything here is so... different." He was more open than he ever was with his therapist. "I just want to go home."

"How old were you the first time?" Korra asked, her fingers running along her own arm.

He thought for a moment, knowing what she was asking. "Thirteen I think, maybe twelve."

She nodded in understanding and he felt himself open up a little more. She understood and it had been so long since he'd talked about anything.

"I just wish I wasn't here anymore. Everything sucks, it has always sucked,and it always will. I'll never be what everybody wants me to be, what my father wanted me to be." He hated how whiny he sounded. "All I wanted was to die, but I didn't. I woke up and found out my father didn't want me anymore, that I'm too much of an embarrassment, a disappointment."

"Your uncle is Iroh, right?" Asami asked gently, "the owner of the tea shop?"

Zuko nodded and Korra smiled. "He's a good man," she said, "helped me through a lot when I was a teenager. His son was sweet too." So she had known Lu Ten then. "Why were you outside in this weather?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, I panicked I guess," he wouldn't look at them. "I was already freaking out, I skipped class today and he come home and found me and I knew he was angry, I thought he was going to-" he stopped himself.

"You thought he was going to hit you?" Korra asked. Her voice was steady, but he wouldn't look at her face.

Nodding he explained, "I- I don't think he would. He hasn't given me any reason to think he would, but I know I fucked up and I was scared and-"

"And you panicked," Asami said softly.

"Love," Korra said, changing the topic for a moment. "Can you call Iroh? His contact is in my phone, we probably should have called him already."

She nodded before getting up. Grabbing Korra's phone out of her bag, she retreated to the bedroom. "Hey Iroh, yeah it's Asami. No, Korra's okay, actually -" the conversation was cut off by the door closing behind her.

"She was always the social one," Korra said after a moment. "Always knows what to say in difficult situations." She took a deep breath before lowering her voice a little. "Zuko, do you feel safe to go home? If not you can stay here, or we can contact a social worker or take you to the hospital-"

"It's not my home," he pointed out. "I'm sure my father will have me home soon, I just... I just need to prove I'm worth something."

She looked like she was about to argue, but decided against it. Sometimes you have to pick your battles. "Okay, but for now, are you safe to go back to your uncle's house?"

He nodded slowly. "I shouldn't have left. I was just overwhelmed."

They were quiet for a moment. Through the closed door they could hear Asami's soft voice, but couldn't make out what was being said.

"I was like you once," Korra told him after a moment. "I'm sure you already gathered that, but I was a lot like you."

He finally looked up at her. "what do you mean?"

She leaned back in her chair. "I was angry and hurting; refused to let anybody else in. I was  _so sure_ I wasn't going to live past 18 that I didn't even bother with school. I was passed around from home to home; person who didn't care to person who didn't care. Nobody saw any sort of future for me. I spent most of my nights on the streets, drinking, getting high, and running from cops."

Zuko raised his eyebrows. "What happened?"

"When I was 17 I was picked up by cops for drug dealing. I was a runaway who had been in foster care since early childhood, so it wasn't hard to find out who I was. I was assigned to a social worker who placed me in a family for troubled youth. It took months to finally let my foster father in, I was certain he would send me away. No matter what I did though, he always told me he had faith in me. Gyasto saved my life."

"But you were Aang's foster sibling," he protested. "You're at least ten years older than him."

She smiled, "only nine actually. I aged out of the system but Gyasto refused to kick me out like most foster parents do. He let me stay because it was a stable place for me. I was 21 when Aang came, he was 12 at the time, and I adored him. I won't tell you his story, but if you ask him I know he'll tell you. I moved in with Asami a year later but we all go back for dinner every sunday." she smiled, it was genuine. "I got better because I let people help me. It was the same for Aang, and a lot of other people I know."

He was going to say something else when Asami walked in the room.

"Iroh is glad to know you're safe," she told him before looking at Korra. Zuko felt like he missed a silent conversation between them. "Your clothes should be dry soon, we'll take you back when they're done." She was quiet for a moment or Korra looked like she was silently urging her to say something. Eventually Asami smiled at him. "Zuko, I want you to know that you can always come to me. Even to Korra if you need. If you ever get too overwhelmed with school, let me know and I'll see what I can do. I'm not promising miracles, but most teachers will lay off if they know something is going on. We aren't evil."

Her eyes brightened when she saw Zuko smile at the joke.

"And I'll make sure Iroh gives you my number," Korra added, "you can call or text me anything. Unless I'm responding to a call, I'll always answer right away, even if it's the middle of the night.."

He wasn't sure how to react. It had been years since he'd felt like somebody was on his side. "Thank you," he said at last.

"And Zuko," Korra added, "I know Aang can be a little..."

"Overbearing? Excitable?" Asami supplied with a loving tone..

Korra laughed and Zuko couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, that," she answered, "I know you're still nervous and unsure of what's going on, but give Aang a chance. He really is a sweet kid, and I know he likes you."

"He's talked about me?" Zuko asked, feeling a bit guilty. Sure he hadn't been terrible to Aang, but he wasn't exactly the friendliest person..

"You have a right to be mistrustful," Korra told him, "but don't let that ruin everything for you. Yes he's talked about you. All good things other than a bit of concern." She answered before he could ask. "Aang has an eye for people who are different, and he tends to pull them into his group." she laughed, "it started with Katara and then her brother when he was 13, than his cousin Suki. I think Toph joined next." Asami was smiling as well. "What I mean to say is give them a chance. They may turn out to be good for you, if you let them."

He wasn't sure what to say to that, so he just nodded.

"Have you ever seen the movie for A Streetcar Named Desire?" Asami asked, changing the topic. "We own it if you want to watch it while your clothes dry."

"The old 1951 movie?" he asked, voice lighting up.

She nodded and guided him and Korra into the living room.

* * *

 

They probably didn't need to watch the entire movie, but Zuko was thankful that they did. Asami spent the hour and a half marking, which he came to learn was what a teacher spent their life doing. Korra seemed to have a habit of talking through movies. She asked questions about characters, motivations, themes and motifs. He suspected that living with an English teacher would do that.

By the time it was done, his clothes were dry and it was nearing 9:00pm.

The rain was drizzling when Korra drove him back to his uncle's house.

"I'm serious about calling me," she told him after knocking on the door. "Whenever you need."

Iroh answered before he could reply. Worry shifted to relief as soon as he saw Zuko. He didn't even glance at his bandaged arm as he let his nephew and Korra enter the house.

"We fed him," Korra said.

Iroh smiled reassuringly at him. "Why don't you go take a shower nephew?"

"Just throw out the bandages," Korra told him, "I'll rewrap it before I leave, just in case, but really they're just to keep it clean."

Zuko nodded and started up the stairs, he knew a dismissal when he heard one. He wondered what they were going to say.

A few minutes later he stepped under the hot spray of water.

It stung his arm, but it wasn't like he'd never felt it before. His legs ached, unsurprising when he realized Korra and Asami lived a 40 minute walk from Iroh's house.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, but the water was starting to go cold when he finally got out. Grabbing a towel he opened the door and shivered as cold air hit him. He changed into a tshirt and sweatpants, not all that different from what Asami had him wear.

Voices drifted up the stairs but he couldn't hear what was being said. Picking a hoodie off the floor, he realized the blood stain had been cleaned. Now it was just a slightly discoloured patch, only noticeable when he was looking for it. He couldn't help but wonder how his uncle learned to clean stains like that so well.

When he walked downstairs, he found Korra sitting across from Iroh at the table. She had a mug in her hands.

"Let me double check my work," she told him when he entered the room. He hesitated but took a seat next to her. Iroh stood to get him a mug of tea.

Quickly, she checked the stitches before rewrapping his arm in a clean bandage. Once she was done, she sat back and met his gaze.

"Why won't you take your medication?" she asked shortly.

"I don't need them," he replied, suddenly defensive.

She snorted. "Yeah that's bullshit and we both know it."

"Korra-" Iroh began, she cut him off.

"You need them," she stated, ignoring his uncle, "I can promise that. There's nothing wrong with it, or you, it just means your brain isn't all that good with chemicals. I need them, too."

He looked away and was quiet for a moment. "I don't want to change."

Korra sighed, "I figured it would be something like that." She thought for a moment. "There really isn't much I can say. Misery isn't all you are you know. And medication doesn't change much about you."

"Yes it does," he snapped. Iroh was silent.

"Not any more than cocaine, pot, ecstasy, even alcohol. You can still function on an SSRI." She picked up an orange bottle he hadn't noticed before. "These are less dangerous and more helpful than anything you've ever taken. So why are you so against it?"

He didn't say anything. Mostly because he didn't know.

"Do you even  _want_  to get better?" she asked, still holding the bottle.

That struck a chord, his first response was to be angry, to yell  _of course I do,_ but for some reason, he didn't. "I-I..." He knew nothing other than misery or anger, if he were to lose that, what else would there be? It had kept him alive, what was he supposed to say? He would be nothing. "I don't know."

"It's okay to be scared," she told him softly. "It's okay to not know what you want. What isn't okay is to put yourself in danger." She put the bottle in front of him before she stood. "Try not to skip Asami's classes," she commented as she grabbed her jacket off the back of the chair, "she worries when her students are absent."

Korra nodded to Iroh before seeing herself out of the room. A moment later, the front door opened and closed.

Zuko sat in silence, staring at the orange bottle of pills as Iroh sat across from him. The rain had all but stopped, and he couldn't help but wish for the sound to break through the suffocating quiet.

"I'm sorry," he said at last, refusing to look at his uncle. He couldn't take the silence anymore. "I shouldn't have left, I shouldn't have-" he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

Iroh was quiet for a moment, and Zuko kept staring at the bottle. His name was written on the side, along with the word  _Zoloft_ and the amount  _50mg_.

"Did Ozai-" Iroh began. Zuko's head snapped up at the mention of his father's name. "Did he hurt you?" he asked hesitantly.

He didn't reply. He couldn't. What was there to say? Yes, but not without reason, not unless he was provoked, not unless he had too, unless Zuko fucked up, unless -

"Zuko did he hit you?" Iroh asked again, his voice was pleading.

He looked away and shook his head, but didn't say anything.

"Zuko-" he urged.

"No," he answered, shaking his head. "No he didn't."

Iroh didn't look convinced. "You know you can talk to me," he said.

Zuko shrugged before finally snapping. His tea was mostly cold, but it didn't matter. Quickly, he grabbed the bottle, opened it, and washed a pill down with tea.

Iroh looked caught off guard as Zuko put the bottle back on the table.

"I'm going to bed," he announced before rushing up the stairs to the safety of the bedroom. He had barely pulled the blankets over his frame when the exhaustion of the day caught up with him, and unconsciousness took over.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good Days come from surprising places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I'll be honest I didn't proof read this at all, so sorry about that (I'm really not sorry)
> 
> Whoo, real chapter 11! So I'm not dead, shocking I know. Not sure when the next update will be but here this is!

He stayed home from school the next day. Iroh made an emergency appointment with his therapist, which he was unable to skip. It sucked about as much as every other time. In the very least, Aang and his friends bought the idea that he was just sick, or at least said nothing about it.

After three days, he decided that medication was terrible. It made him feel sick for the first hour after taking it, and remember was a nightmare in itself. At least he could take it in the evenings, it was easier to remember if it was just before bed. He also had terrible morning anxiety. It seemed that he woke up anxious everyday, which was not a great start. Everybody assured him that it would get better once his body adjusted to it, but after two weeks, he was getting impatient. At least he hadn't fought with Iroh again. To be honest, he spent most of his time in his room listening to music.

After one particularly bad morning, Zuko was not in a good mood. Even Aang noticed, which was a miracle in itself.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked in study hall.

Zuko looked up from the desk, where he had been resting his head. The night before had been full of nightmares and restless hours, and he found himself wondering if his dreams would ever be normal again. "Yeah," he answered, "just tired."

Aang didn't look convinced, but seemed it accept it nonetheless. "Well, uh," he started, "I was wondering if you wanted to come over for my homework party?"

He blinked at him. "Homework party?" he didn't know what it was, but it sounded like something Aang would do.

The boy in question brightened a little. "Yeah! Whenever we all have a lot of homework, we get together and worked on it, it's usually at my house, because it's biggest. Everybody usually stays for dinner too!"

"A homework party," Zuko repeated, unsure.

Aang nodded. "Yeah! You can meet my guardian too! My foster siblings are scattered around the house but they leave us alone. None of them are super friendly so it works out well. It's on Sunday, which means everybody is coming over for dinner too!" he was beaming, "I know you've met Asami, but just wait until you meet her wife Korra, or Suki's mom, Kyoshi!"

He couldn't help the slight cringe that the mention of Korra's name. He dreaded the day he'd have to pretend to meet her, as if he didn't have her contact information saved in his phone. Not to mention the last time he saw either her, or Mrs. Sato (he still couldn't decided whether to call her by her first name or not) out of school, he was in the middle of an embarrassing breakdown.

"At least think about it?" Aang asked him, "it would be a lot of fun if you came along."

"Yeah, I'll think about it," he replied.

* * *

 "I think you should go," Iroh told him that evening over a plate of chicken and salad. It was a generic dinner, but he wasn't about to complain, he wouldn't eat a lot of it anyways.

"Why?" he asked, not actually caring about the answer. Of course Iroh would want him to go, he was always pushing him to go socialize.

"Because I'm sure you would be greatly missed if you didn't," his uncle spoke so nonchalantly about the situation - it was agitating.

He put down his fork, "but I'd have to pretend I haven't met Korra, and I hate people."

"Just give it a try."

* * *

  _This is a terrible idea._ Zuko thought as he walked up the front steps of Aang's home. He lived on a large plot of land a few minutes out of town. The house was large, and Zuko could only imagine how many rooms were inside it.

As Iroh park the car on their gravel driveway, Zuko took in the surroundings. It was raining gently, but that didn't seem the stop the giant dog running around outside. He was white with an odd colouring of brown strips, and was happily playing with Toph's dog, Badger.

It made Zuko smile to see the two animals so happy. Dogs were great animals, and he honestly loved them, but he father would never allow one. The last pet he has was a turtle his mother had given him years before. It disappeared a week after his mother did.

He shook his head, chasing away the thought. He didn't want to think about that just then, not when he was already on the verge of an anxiety attack. He really hated socializing.

Iroh opened the door, which Zuko used as a clue to follow. He grabbed his backpack and stepped out into the rain as the two dogs started barking loudly. After a moment, the front door opened and Aang emerged.

"Zuko!" he called with a huge smile, before turning to the dog. "Appa, come."

Zuko and Iroh wanted for the large animal to thunder thunder through the door before approaching. Toph's Badger approached much more calmly.

"I don't recall him being so excitable," Iroh said as he stepped into the house. He had told Zuko that he wanted a word with Aang's guardian.

"It's just because Badger is here." Aang answered, drying off the dog's paws. He looked over to Zuko. "Did I tell you I had Appa? I can't remember."

He shrugged in response, "honestly, neither can I." He took a step closer to the dog, "can I?"

"Of course!" Aang replied, "just remember he's wet and a bit muddy right now." He finished drying off Appa when a creature jumped on his back, and climbed to his shoulders. Aang let out a noise as he tried to adjusted to the new weight. "Momo!" he scolded as he lifted the creature from behind his next. It was a small cat. "This is Momo," he showed the friendly creature to Zuko. "He's fully grown, I promise, even though he looks like a kitten." It was true, the cat didn't look fully grown at all.

Zuko gave both the animals pets, before being interpreted by a familiar voice.

"Are we going to start studying soon?" Katara asked from the only doorway in the room.

Upon hearing her voice, Zuko looked up and finally took in the room around him.

The walls were a pale yellow - almost cream tone, with dark wood panelling on the lower half. The floor was the same wood, and was covered in multiple rugs. Shoes were scattered around the room, along with coats thrown on what looked like wooden benches. Katara stood in an archway, allowing Zuko to see a large living space behind her with a set of stairs in the back.

"Sorry," Aang blushed as he walked into the room Katara had come from. Zuko followed, realizing that Iroh had already snuck away.

The next room held three couches, a TV, a gaming system, and a lot of books. There were several doors on the far wall, same as the stairs, that must have lead to other places. There was also several windows to his left, allowing natural light into the room along with the overhead lights.

"This is the livingroom," Aang said. He pointed to the doors, "most of those are storage, but Gyasto's room in the middle one. The one closest to the stairs is the bathroom. There's just bedrooms upstairs." He pointed out a door to the right that Zuko hadn't seen. "That leads to the kitchen and dining room. Iroh is in there with Gyasto and Kyoshi right now."

Zuko nodded as Aang took a seat on the floor that was surrounded by several open books.

The group was all there. Some studying - Katara and Suki, others goofying off - Sokka and Toph. They all smiled at him when he sat down on one of the couches.

"Good to see you," Suki said with a smile.

"Good to hear you," Toph replied, laughing at her own blind joke and Badger finally sat next to her again.

Everybody else greeted him as they all slipped into their work, which for Sokka and Toph included throwing pencils. It was almost funny to watch Sokka miss repeatedly, while Toph hit him every time.

"How do you do that?" Zuko asked her eventually.

"Are you talking to me?" Toph asks as she threw another pencil at Sokka.

"Yeah," he answered as the pencil was thrown back. It missed.

"I can hear him," she replied, turning to throw a new pencil at Zuko. It hit his arm. "And you," she smiled as Zuko tossed it back to her. It hit her leg.

"Finally somebody with aim!" she laughed, causing Sokka to frown.

"I do have good aim!" he replied in defense. "I just don't want to hit a blind girl with a pencil. We have to give you a sense of achievement you know."

Suki snorted. "Yeah as if. The only thing you're good at throwing is that boomerang."

Katara laughed, "but you have to admit, he's pretty good with it."

"Boomerang?" Zuko asked. He knew what one was of course, but he couldn't be sure he'd ever seen one.

"Yeah!" Sokka answered, "my dad got it for me when he went to Australia. He says it's important for Katara and I to know about other Native Cultures, other than our own."

"Your own?" he asked, a bit confused.

"Oh, we're Native American," Katara said. "We lived on a reserve until my mom got sick..." she trailed off. Zuko looked confused between her and Sokka.

"She died," Sokka explained. "Something about the water made her and a bunch of other people sick. The government wouldn't even give us funding to fix it." He shrugged, as everybody else was quiet. "We left. Katara, Gran Gran, and I. Dad couldn't. He's the chief. I should have stayed too, but he wouldn't let me."

"I'm sorry," Zuko said, meaning it.

"I hate them," Katara spoke with surprising anger. "The politicians who sit in their big fancy homes, built on the bones of our ancestors, refusing to help us make ends me. They let us live in poverty, drinking contaminated water, without proper access to medical care or resources." She laughed bitterly. "I remember that Senator, what's his name Sokka?"

"Ozai," he answered, looking away from the group. Zuko froze. He knew what she was about to say. His father was against what he called 'special treatment' of Native Americans. And of course, that special treatment is what everybody deserves. Like education and safe drinking water.

"Yeah, that's it. He openly campaigns against Native American rights. Tells us it's our own fault our water is dirty, they're taking our land, that our education systems are failing, that healthcare is borderline inaccessible! That polling stations are pretty much unreachable-!"

"Katara," Sokka said, calling her attention back. "This isn't the time, you're just getting upset."

"And why shouldn't I be upset?!" she shouted. "Our mother is dead Sokka. Because those politicians paint us as criminals who are only angry about sports teams!"

"Katara," he said more harshly.

"Don't you hate them? Yue is dead because of them-"

"Enough!" Sokka shouted, standing up and letting the papers and books around him fall to the floor. "Of course I'm angry. I'll always be angry, and yeah, I hate them and everybody that has anything to do with them, but now isn't that fucking time!" He stormed out of the house into the rain that was slowly picking up.

It was silent for a moment, before Katara excused herself and went after her brother.

Only after the door closed did anybody speak. "I didn't think-" Zuko began before being cut off by Suki.

"You didn't do anything wrong," she told him.

Aang nodded. "It's a sore spot for them, which makes I remembered my parents, I'm sure I would be angry about their deaths too."

Toph nodded. "Yeah, and they get a lot of shit too. Most people don't say anything to them, but people like my parents talk about them behind their back all the time."

"And of course, as Katara said," Suki began, "it doesn't help that politicians don't care about their rights."

Zuko nodded, thinking about what Katara and Sokka had said, it sounded similar enough to Jet's story. It wasn't for the same reasons. But their parents are dead because of politics. Politics his father took the winning side of, that could arguably be the reason behind it. If they ever found out about who he was, if Jet already knew-

He was getting caught up in his own head, he could feel his breathing speeding up. His heart was pounding, did it suddenly get a lot hotter in their? He couldn't decide if he wanted to faint or vomit. Maybe both?

"Zuko," Toph said, pulling his attention to her. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, why wouldn't I be?" he tried to stop his voice from shaking.

"Because I can hear your breathing from here," she replied frankly.

"I'm fine," he tried to say with more conviction, but he must not have succeeded. Even Aang looked at him with concern.

Before anybody else could say anything the front door opened, allowing Korra, Asami, Sokka, and Katara into the warm house.

"I hate rain,' Asami said, taking off her maroon raincoat.

Korra shrugged, "I love it."

"You always did," came an unfamiliar male voice. Zuko turned to see an old man exiting the kitchen, followed by a woman in her early thirties.

"Gyasto, Kyoshi!" Korra said happily as she walked towards her family. Asami smiled and followed, nodding to the students.

Katara and Sokka joined them once again, "sorry," Sokka muttered, taking his seat.

"Korra!" Aang said happily. "This is Zuko!"

Korra approached and held out her hand nonchalantly. "Nice to finally meet you, I'm Aang's sister."

There wasn't even a hint that she was lying.  _Damn she's good._

"Zuko," if there was one thing he knew, it was the best lies were short and sweet. Hard to fuck up just saying your name.

"Dinner is almost ready," Iroh said, entering the room with a smile. "Korra, Asami, lovely to see you, would you like some tea?"

"Of course!" Korra replied, following him back into the kitchen.

A half hour later, fifteen people sat around a large dining table, piling with food. Zuko had never seen anything like it. At home, he was lucky if the three of them ate together, let alone more.

Apparently Aang had four foster siblings currently living with him, all younger. Tenzin was the youngest at seven, Bumi was thirteen, brothers Noatak and Tarrlok were fourteen and sixteen respectively, and apparently homeschooled. It was hectic to have so many people in one place.

Once the meal was done, the six of them disappeared back to the living room and put on a movie. Adults came and went, checking in and visiting, before going back to join the others. Before long, Iroh and Zuko were leaving.

The drive home was quick, but Iroh still used it as time to ask questions. "How do you feel that went?"

"Fine," he replied, letting his head rest against the seat. It was exhausting to socialize that much, but he thought he may have had fun.

"Would you do it again?"

He shrugged. "Maybe."

It was getting late when they finally got back. More from routine than memory, Zuko took his medication and went to bed. Part of him registering that it had been a pretty good day, the first one in a long time.


End file.
